


Let Our Bells Keep On Ringing

by ebi_pers



Series: Please Leave All Drama On The Stage [5]
Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Vacation, Multi, Road Trips, This is literally just cozy winter fluff and friendship that's all i got, ski trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebi_pers/pseuds/ebi_pers
Summary: Nine friends, a Christmas vacation, and, of course, nothing goes according to plan. The final story in the "Please Leave All Drama on the Stage" AU!
Relationships: Big Red/Ashlyn Caswell, Ricky Bowen/Nini Salazar-Roberts, Seb Matthew-Smith/Carlos Rodriguez
Series: Please Leave All Drama On The Stage [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673623
Comments: 60
Kudos: 84





	1. Christmas Lights Tangle in Knots Annually

**Author's Note:**

> At long last! The final story in this AU begins! I originally intended this to be a oneshot but it kept ballooning into a larger story because I'm just so attached to these characters... So yeah, it's a multi-chapter now. Sorry for how long it took to get this out - things are still a bit crazy but they're settling down now. At least until we bring the kids back to school... 
> 
> Anyway, this went through a bunch of revisions before I was happy with it. I hope you'll enjoy. I'm also experimenting with some chat-based elements to the story here to add humor, so for those pieces the characters' names are as follows:  
> Ricky = Pickle Rick  
> Nini = kneeknee  
> EJ = armie hammer  
> Gina = gin and tonic  
> Kourtney = Order in the Kourt  
> Ashlyn = The Notorious A.M.C.  
> Carlos = c-rod  
> Seb = Horatio Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian (bonus points to anyone who knows where that's from!)  
> And as for Big Red, well you'll see...
> 
> Okay, so that about covers all the background you need. I'm excited to hear what you think so far! This will be leaning heavily into the Christmas fluff and I intend for it to be so sweet you'll get cavities. Oh, and title and chapter titles all derived from "Snow" by Sleeping at Last, which is an amazing song.

“I’m stuck,” Ricky announces, throwing up his hands in defeat and looking forlornly at Nini across the room. She turns around and immediately bursts into laughter at the sight of her boyfriend tangled in a mess of Christmas lights. 

“I warned you,” she says with a giggle, crossing the room in her fuzzy-socked feet. “Those lights haven’t been taken out in years.” She begins to pluck fretfully at the mass of green wires, working to free him from their clutches. 

“Yeah, but it’s not a tree without  _ lights _ , Neens,” he says with a good-natured huff. 

“Hold still!” she admonishes, placing her hands firmly on his arms to stop his wriggling. “I don’t even know if these lights work.” 

“Plug me in and find out.” Ricky smirks suggestively. 

“As entertaining as that would be, I don’t really want to know what you look like with 120 volts coursing through your body. Besides,” she punctuates the statement with a kiss to his cheek, his curly hair tickling her face, “you’re already the light of my life.” 

Ricky gapes at her, unable to come up with a comeback as she backs away with a smug look on her face, the Christmas lights hanging loose and untangled in her hands. She holds his gaze for a moment, and he swears he can feel his heartbeat quicken when she crosses back to the other side of the living room and digs into the large plastic container full of ornaments, the oversized sleeves of her baggy white sweater sliding past her hands while John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” plays softly from her phone. 

This isn’t his first Christmas in Salt Lake City. It’s not even his first Christmas with Nini, though they spent the last holiday apart, caught in the murky space of “what are we” and texting each other fervently but surreptitiously from their respective dinner tables. He spent last Christmas with Big Red, who was happy to have one more day of celebration even though Hanukkah had just ended. Nonetheless, Ricky can’t help but feel like this is truly his first Christmas in Salt Lake. There’s something about the way Nini looks, hair down and bundled in her sweater, that makes him feel warm inside. There’s something about decorating the tree with her that makes him feel like he’s never truly celebrated anything at all until now. 

Christmas with his mom was always a hollow affair, full of presents that were exactly what he wanted, but only because he handed her a list detailing each item. She didn’t even make an effort to hide the gifts in the final years he lived with her. He would simply open a coat closet one morning and find them there, unwrapped and in plain sight, but he still tried his best to act surprised when he tore the paper off them a few days later. Dinner felt like an obligation. He would smile in his tightly-buttoned shirt and itchy red sweater, stiffly thanking all of Todd’s relatives for their holiday wishes and the cards with $20 inside that were addressed to ‘Richard.’ He didn’t even come home for winter break during his senior year. And while things are much better between him and his mother now - their phone conversations last longer than five minutes and contain more than pleasantries about the weather and monosyllabic responses - two holidays in a row still feels like a little too much. 

Besides, Christmas is Nini’s favorite holiday. She’s been in the holiday spirit since December 1st, when she changed the plug-in air fresheners to a gingerbread scent and began buying candy canes to hand out to her students. Her moms, too, have been in the spirit for weeks, preparing the menu and decorating the house, mailing out Christmas cards and sending gift baskets to distant cousins. He could never pull Nini away from her moms on such an important day, and even though he’s only been dating her for a year, he’s already been inducted into the family. He can’t picture Christmas morning without Mama C and Mama D. 

Nini hangs the Christmas wreath on the front door of the condo, shivering against the December chill while her breath fogs up the storm door glass. Paul McCartney proclaims it to be a wonderful Christmastime, and when Ricky sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, the heat of his body warming her up, she has to agree. 

* * *

The week before Christmas break is the longest of the school year. Classes start to wind down for the break. Novels are finished, math units completed and tested, science labs reported on, art projects presented, and concert pieces performed and put away. The days are filled with time-wasters. Nobody wants to start anything new, and everyone is buzzing with excitement for the long holiday ahead. 

Ricky drains his second cup of coffee as the faculty room clock ticks ahead second-by-agonizing-second. Nini chews on the end of a pink pen, reading and rereading the same essay without marking a single thing. Gina tips her chair back idly, letting the front legs dangle in midair for a second before coming back down to the ground with a dull thud. Seb huffs in annoyance as his solitaire app declares he is out of moves. Ashlyn dips her tea bag, but doesn’t take a sip. 

“Guys!” EJ bursts excitedly into the faculty room. Ashlyn starts, knocking her mug with her hand and sending lukewarm tea sloshing all over the table and her clothes. Gina nearly falls backwards in her chair but manages to recover at the last second. Nini gasps and almost inhales her pen. “Guess what!” EJ declares, barely registering their shocked expressions. 

“I was about to win that hand!” Seb groans while Ashlyn dabs at her sweater with a napkin.

“Sorry, Sebby,” the PE teacher says dismissively, spinning a vacant chair backwards and straddling it. “But what I’m about to tell you is way better than solitaire.” 

“This better be good,” Gina grumbles good-naturedly. “I almost died.”

“You all look half-dead anyway,” EJ complains, gesturing to their drooping eyelids. 

“Dude, winter break’s a week away,” Ricky yawns. “Sorry if we aren’t exactly bursting with spirit.” 

“I bet this’ll perk you up,” EJ counters, sliding his phone across to the music teacher. 

Ricky picks up the device as Nini leans in to peer over his shoulder. The picture on the screen is of the quintessential ski lodge: stone foundation, unpainted wood sidings, green roof. He swipes through the photos, taking note of the exposed wooden beams, the cozy-looking beds draped in faded quilts, the double-height fireplace with rich, brown couches arranged around it in a semicircle. The floor-to-ceiling windows look out over snow-capped mountains. 

“What’s this?” Ricky questions. 

“That, my friend, is where we’re spending Christmas,” EJ answers with a proud smile. 

“Wait, what?” Seb blinks, adjusting his glasses to see the gym teacher better. 

EJ’s face falls. “Did you guys forget? We talked about doing a trip over winter break!” 

“In my defense, I thought that was one of those things we talk about but never end up doing,” the dance teacher says slowly. 

“Since when do we talk about things and not do them?” EJ questions. 

“Game nights,” Ashlyn offers, arching a brow.

“That D&D campaign Big Red keeps swearing he’ll run,” Ricky adds.

“Carpooling to work?” Gina suggests.

EJ shakes his head. “Okay, fine, so we’re bad at followthrough. But I was serious, you guys. C’mon! We all deserve a little R and R, don’t we? Besides, my parents are taking Ashlyn’s to Cabo for Christmas.” 

“It’s true,” his cousin confirms. “So I guess that means I’m free.” 

“Well,” Gina says thoughtfully, “my mom got called to Maine on a temporary assignment. Landslide. So we sort of postponed our holiday celebration till she gets back…” 

Seb shrugs. “Carlos and I were going to visit my family’s farm. We usually spend the week there between Christmas and New Years, but I’m sure they won’t mind if we miss a few days.” 

Nini sighs as she catches the hopeful look in EJ’s pleading, blue-green eyes. “EJ, this place costs six hundred dollars a night!” she says, as if it’s a valid counterpoint. As if EJ Caswell has ever been deterred by how much things cost.

“So? Don’t worry about it,” EJ shrugs. “My parents are covering the cost.” 

“Really?” Gina asks incredulously. “That’s a lot of money. I don’t mind chipping in a little…”

“It’s the least they could do for ditching me on a holiday,” he responds, and though he tries to play it off good-naturedly, there is a slight, unmistakable bitterness to his tone. “And for leaving Ashlyn alone on Christmas, too.” He looks at Nini again. 

She exchanges a look with Ricky. 

“Up to you,” he tells her quietly. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

She feels torn. She’s always spent Christmas with her moms. They already picked out their matching pajamas and everything. Even Ricky got in on the act. But EJ’s parents have been traveling on the holidays for as long as she can remember. It was true in high school, when EJ threw Christmas Eve ragers while unsupervised in the house. It was true throughout their years of friendship and in the time they dated, too, and she’d gladly brought EJ to her moms’ house when she learned he was alone for the holiday. Last Christmas was the first he’d spent alone in years, and part of her feels guilty for wanting to turn down this invitation. EJ is family, too, after all. Everyone at this table is. 

“I have to talk to my moms,” she says. “Maybe rearrange some things. But I want to go. We’ll find a way to make it work.” 

“Yes!” EJ cheers, so suddenly that Ashlyn starts and bumps her mug yet again. “Okay, I’m gonna text the group chat and let Kourtney, Red, and Carlos know.” His face lights up in a million-watt smile. “You guys, this is gonna be the best holiday ever. I can feel it!” 

* * *

**East High Teachers of the Year (And Friends)**

**10:02 PM**

_ armie hammer: pack your bags, kids. we’re spending christmas in aspen! _

_ The Notorious A.M.C.: All expenses paid courtesy of EJ’s parents! _

_ armie hammer: well, most expenses paid anyway... _

_ red-handed: Wait, what? When did we decide this? _

_ armie hammer: back in october. and today in the faculty lounge. _

_ Order in the Kourt: How many times have we told you that you can’t go making life-altering decisions at work! 3 of us don’t have the luxury of working with you all! _

_ gin and tonic: i don’t know if i would describe it as a luxury…  _

_ c-rod: eric james caswell so help me god if we cancel our plans and find out that ur joking… _

_ armie hammer: i would never joke about something as serious as a vacation _

_ Horatio Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian: plans??? what plans??? i thought we had the same plans??? i already said my parents wouldn’t mind if we skipped out on a couple days _

_ c-rod: ok fine, but what about OTHER people’s plans? _

_ Order in the Kourt: I mean, I normally visit my family in Provo but Aspen sounds way more fun than watching Uncle Jasper fall asleep to the yule log channel for the 15th year in a row _

_ armie hammer: then tell uncle jasper you’ll see him next year cuz you’re going to colorado, baby! _

_ Order in the Kourt: Please never call me baby again _

_ red herring: I’m in! Hanukkah will be over by then anyway _

_ Pickle Rick: what about halfpipe?  _

_ red alert: my parents will watch him. they spoil him all the time anyway. i think they want grandkids… _

_ The Notorious A.M.C.: NO _

_ kneeknee: Not to change the subject, but you know what this vacation needs? Secret santa! _

_ The Notorious A.M.C.: YES _

_ gin and tonic: great idea! i’ll organize _

_ Pickle Rick: what’s the price cap? $20? _

_ c-rod: um excuse me. we are working professionals now, Richard. i think we can afford a little more than $20. _

_ Order in the Kourt: I’m the first to preach that you can’t assign love and friendship a monetary value, but I gotta agree with Carlos on this one. We can afford a little more than $20 _

_ armie hammer: this is gonna be the best family vacation ever! _

* * *

It’s not a question. As soon as Nini calls up Mama D and mentions the potential vacation with her friends, she tells her to go.

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You and Mama C already did so much planning…” 

“Nini,” Dana cuts her off gently. “You’re an adult now. There are going to be other people in your life who are just as important to you. You deserve to spend quality time with them. They’re also your loved ones, after all. Besides, I bet they’ll be a lot more fun than hanging out with two old ladies drinking eggnog,” she chuckles. 

“Nobody’s more fun than you, Mom,” Nini replies. 

“Maybe not,” Dana says. “But we will have plenty of other Christmases together. Go and be with your friends this year. Have fun. And we’ve always got New Years, right?” 

Nini smiles into the phone. “Count on it,” she says. “Thanks, Mom.” Something about her mother’s gentle insistence that she spend time with her friends absolves her. She knows she doesn’t need permission, but it’s a relief to know that her moms understand that they are more than just friends to her.

“Oh! Mom says to drop by sometime before you go,” Dana says. “She wants to give you and Ricky your presents so you can open them on Christmas morning. Send us videos.” 

“Mom!” Nini protests good-naturedly. “I thought we agreed to no presents this year!” 

Dana feigns thoughtfulness. “Well, I seem to recall you saying that, but I don’t seem to recall agreeing to it.” 

“Good thing we got you something, too,” Nini counters. “I’ll come by the day before I leave and we can exchange.” 

“Oh, actually, we were going up to visit Auntie Magdalene that day. She’s not doing too well, you know. We wanted to spend some time with her. What about the Friday before you leave?” 

“Can’t,” Nini winces. “That’s the last day of school before break. I need to get my grades in…” 

“Okay, well we can figure something out. Let us know,” Dana says. “Love you! And say hi to Ricky for us!” 

“I will,” Nini can’t help but smile. “Love you, too!” 

Ricky glances up from his computer, rubbing his tired eyes as she hangs up the phone. “What’d they say?” he asks, drawing his sweater together about him to fend off the persistent draft that’s blown through the place since she bought it. 

Nini sizes him up for a moment: loose cardigan, tousled hair, knit t-shirt, the moccasins he insists keep his feet warm, even if they look a little ridiculous on him. The Christmas lights twinkle, lighting his face up in yellow and red and blue, and she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

“They said to go and have a good time,” she says, leaning against his shoulder. His hand instinctively loops around her waist and pulls her closer to him. The couch cushion dips under their combined weight. He drops a soft kiss to the top of her head and imagines what it will feel like to snuggle under a heavy quilt with her in Aspen while the fireplace crackles and the harsh winter wind swirls snow past the windows. 

* * *

Ricky lines the bottom of his suitcase with rolled-up sweaters, thick and woolly, then gently lays the box atop the pile. He can already imagine what Nini would say if she saw. 

“That’s not very space-efficient.” 

Ricky jumps and quickly slams the top of the suitcase shut, wheeling around to face his girlfriend. She leans against the bedroom door frame with one eyebrow arched. “Hey,” he breathes, trying to force a casual tone. 

Nini crosses her arms suspiciously. “What’s going on?” 

“N-nothing,” Ricky stammers. “You just startled me. That’s all.” Though he fancied himself a smooth-talker growing up, the truth is that Ricky Bowen has always been a terrible liar. And on the few occasions he’s found himself lying to Nini - telling her he liked her vegetarian meatloaf, telling her that he enjoyed  _ Titanic  _ even though there was clearly room for the both of them on that stupid door, telling her that he’s fine when he’s clearly not - he’s discovered he’s even worse at deceiving her. 

“Okay,” Nini drags out the last syllable. “I gotta say, Ricky, this is very unlike you.” 

“What is?” he gulps. 

She gestures to the suitcase. “Packing the night before.” 

Her tone is airy and almost playful, and he knows that she knows something is up. She’s playing along. And she’s got him there. He’s more of a last-minute packer, tossing items haphazardly into his bag even as he’s heading out the door. He eyes the bag nervously, terrified that she’ll throw it open and demand to know what’s got into him. “Oh, you know,” he chuckles. “Just really excited about our trip, that’s all. I wanted to be all ready to go so we could leave first thing in the morning.” 

“Oh,” Nini deflates, and for a moment he worries he’s said the wrong thing. “Okay…”

“What?” he peeps, searching her face for any hint as to what’s on her mind. 

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “Just… I was going to drop by my moms’ place in the morning so I could see them before we left. But if you wanna head out first thing, it’s fine. I can catch a ride with Ashlyn…” 

“What? No, don’t be silly. Of course we can head out a bit later.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Nini says quickly. “Kourt was gonna hitch a ride with Ash and she has stuff to do in the morning, too. They were already planning to leave in the afternoon. I wonder if Gina would be down to carpool with us…” 

“Neens, I’m serious. I’ll come with you to see your moms and then we’ll head out after.” 

“I don’t want to keep you,” Nini says gently. “You’re so excited, you’re packing early. And besides, Ashlyn already said it would be fine if I rode with her…” 

Ricky sighs. He’d already planned out the route they would take: where they would stop for coffee, a picturesque roadside bistro with a mountain view where they would get lunch, a six hour playlist full of show tunes for them to belt out while the windshield fogged up and the seat warmers ran at full blast. Leave it to Nini to find a way to throw a wrench in the plans. Leave it to him to be able to mess up what should be the greatest trip of their lives right out the gate. He curses his inability to lie to her convincingly. 

“I guess,” he says. 

“What is it?” Nini questions softly. 

“Just… I dunno. It's a long drive. 

“The other guys are riding with EJ. You should ask him if there’s room for one more,” Nini says brightly, then notes his disappointed expression. She steps closer and stoops down to where he kneels in front of his luggage. She takes his face in her hands. “We’ll only be apart for a couple of hours,” she promises. 

Ricky nods and concedes the point. He turns back to his suitcase as soon as she leaves the room and quickly hides the ring box beneath several pairs of long underwear and piles his snow pants on top for good measure.


	2. All Warm-Blooded Creatures (Make Ghosts As They Breathe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time. Far too long really. I wish I had an exciting reason for my absence, but the truth is that I've been exhausted. We reopened school for a week, and then immediately closed because we had a few cases of Covid. I'm fine, thankfully - my test came back negative. But planning to go back in-person (with social distancing, of course) and then having to close again has really taken it out of me, and on top of that, I keep getting new students that I have to try to get up to speed. 
> 
> Long story short, every time I sat down to write, it felt forced and I wasn't happy with the results. Nothing seemed to quite capture the story I'm trying to tell, and the quality was far below what you deserve and what I've come to expect from myself. I think I've finally got this chapter to a point where I feel comfortable posting it. It was originally meant to be much longer, but I've decided to break this into two chapters and extend the overall story to 5. I think that's a sound compromise. I would love to hear your thoughts, and I'm sorry it took so long to get this posted.

Ricky lifts his bag by the handle and carries it toward the front door. It feels heavy, weighed down by bulky sweaters and his snow boots. But heaviest of all is the box inside. He’d picked the ring up from the jeweler just two days ago, a full month after he’d first gone in with two of Nini’s rings and asked the man at the counter to help him pick out the perfect diamond. He’d left feeling dazed, reluctant to believe that an engagement ring would materialize in his hand in four weeks. 

He looks down at his suitcase, as if the diamond might start glittering or flashing or making shrill, alarm noises to alert Nini to its presence. She’s already suspicious. He knows it. And he reconsiders proposing on the trip. He has no clue where he’ll do it. Will they even get a moment alone? Should he propose to Nini in front of all of their friends? He could always wait for New Years like he’d originally planned. Maybe he could sneak the ring back into their bedroom and bury it in his sock drawer again. He glances over his shoulder and finds Nini still sitting at the dining table, her coffee steaming in the mug beside her as she thumbs through a stack of essays. He doubts his ability to slip past her. So he leaves the suitcase by the door with the ring still inside. 

He’ll figure out a place to pop the question. He’ll find some picturesque, mountain vista and hold Nini’s gloved hand as he leads her out there amid the swirling snow. Their noses will turn red and runny against the bracing wind, and she’ll ask him why he brought her here with an amused smirk. And then he’ll get down on one knee, snow soaking his pants, and he will ask Nini Salazar-Roberts to be his wife. She’ll let out a gasp and her eyes will light up, and then she’ll giggle with delight and say yes, and he’ll stand up and remove her glove, slip the ring over her finger, and then lift her up by her waist and spin her around while their friends applaud and cheer and tease them good-naturedly. 

But what if she says no? They’d talked about marriage before, and those conversations always carried an air of inevitability to them. It was never a question of  _ if  _ they would get married, it was a question of  _ when _ . Because even though it took him months to admit it, Ricky’s loved Nini almost since the day they met, and there isn’t anyone he can imagine spending his life with besides her. 

They’d agreed to a summer wedding, when the school year was over and they could take a few months at home to settle into their new titles of husband and wife. They had talked about where to buy a house - a suburban street similar to the one she’d grown up on and the one he wished he’d grown up on. A house with two floors and a front porch and a fenced yard for their kids to play in. And they’d talked about kids, too. At least two, because they both hated being only children.

He’d done everything right. He’d gone to her moms’ house one afternoon while Nini was out running errands, and he’d asked for their blessing, which they gave whole-heartedly. He’d consulted Kourtney to make sure the ring would suit her taste. But despite it all, the thought that she might say no was the cause of many sleepless nights and anxious dreams. What if she changed her mind? What if she thought they were moving too quickly after all? The thought is unbearable, and he forces it from his mind. He loves Nini, and Nini loves him. Of course she’ll say yes. She already told him she would.

* * *

The new hat is too big. Ricky stares at his reflection in the coat closet mirror and laughs as the orange knit cap slides further down his face and covers his eyes. The strings dangle to his shoulders. He’d ordered it off Gina’s Etsy shop - apparently she’d picked up knitting while moving from place-to-place with her mother - and he makes a mental note to tease her about it when he sees her because she’d sworn she could estimate his head size without measuring. 

Nini sidles up next to him, giggling. “Maybe she was estimating your head size  _ with  _ the curls?” 

“I’ll grow into it,” Ricky insists, taking the hat off. 

“Hmm,” Nini hums, inspecting their reflections side-by-side in the mirror. She teases her hands through his hair to fix his curls. “I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.” 

“I’ll just get a new one on the road,” he shrugs.

“Better not wait too long,” she advises. “The forecast is calling for some pretty major snowfall tonight.” 

“We’ll have plenty of time to get there before it starts snowing,” Ricky says. A loud horn blares from the parking lot, followed by the sound of Christmas music turned up way too high. “Speaking of which…” He crosses over to the front door and pulls it open, letting in a blast of cold air. EJ flashes his headlights in greeting and hops down from the driver’s seat of his Jeep. 

Carlos leans his head out of the back window. “Ho-ho-hurry it up!” he shouts teasingly. 

“I think that’s my cue,” Ricky says, turning to Nini with a rueful smile. 

“Go,” she nudges him toward the door gently. “Have fun. I’ll be right behind you.” 

“Promise?” Ricky asks.

Nini places her hands on either side of his face, rises to the tips of her toes, and kisses him on the lips. “Promise.” 

* * *

EJ’s Jeep is saddled with skis and snowboards, and when the PE teacher opens the tailgate for Ricky to stow his suitcase, he is nearly crushed by a bulk-size package of water bottles that tumbles out. 

“Dude, it’s a few days’ vacation, not the apocalypse,” Ricky teases, wrestling his suitcase into a corner of the trunk. 

“What can I say? I always come prepared,” EJ answers, shutting the tailgate. 

“Me, too,” Ricky murmurs, peering through the tinted glass at his suitcase and the ring inside. 

Big Red clambers out of the passenger seat. “You can have shotgun,” he tells Ricky. 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind -” 

“ _ Please _ ,” Carlos pleads. “Red, I love you, but I won’t survive six more hours with you in charge of the aux.” 

Big Red shrugs. “That’s fair.” 

So Ricky hoists himself into the passenger seat. Between the heat running full-blast, the fact that the truck is full to capacity with people and luggage, and his puffy winter coat, it’s so warm it’s nauseating. He unzips his jacket and puts the seatbelt on while EJ climbs back behind the wheel. 

“Gentlemen,” the PE teacher announces with an enthusiastic grin, “let’s get this vacation started. 

Ricky’s heart skips a beat as EJ puts the Jeep in reverse and pulls out of the parking space. He catches a glimpse of Nini waving behind the fogged-up glass of the storm door, and he has just enough time to wave back before they rumble off into the cold, bright morning. He can’t stop bouncing his leg, and he realizes that he’s filled with excitement and nervousness and a million other emotions he can’t name. He isn’t sure of much when it comes to this trip, but he is sure of one thing: it will be life-changing.

* * *

“Well, it’s not quite Christmas yet, and it’s barely ten o’clock, but it’s always a good time for eggnog, right?” Dana says, setting three glasses down on the coffee table before joining Carol on the loveseat. “There’s a splash of rum in it,” she adds in a scandalous tone. 

Nini lifts the glass to her lips and takes a sip, trying not to wince. Somewhere along the way, her moms had become convinced she liked eggnog. In truth, she’d only begged to drink the stuff as a kid because all the adults at the Christmas party were drinking it, too. But at this rate, it’s far too late to admit the truth, and she’s resigned herself to the fact that she’ll be drinking eggnog once a year for many Christmases to come. Besides, Mama D always looks so proud when she presents her with a glass, as if she’s remembered a long-forgotten secret. How could she deny her parents that one tradition? 

“How long till your friends pick you up?” Mama C questions. 

“A couple hours,” Nini replies, setting the glass on the coffee table. “I’m sorry I’m missing Christmas this year.” 

Mama C holds up a hand and cuts her off. “Enough with the apologies,” she tuts. “You’re young! And a ski trip like this is hardly to be missed.” 

“I know,” she sighs. And she knows, too, that there’s no way she can have it all every time. Not that it’s much comfort. “But you’re family…” 

“And so are they,” Mama C says. “Family is important, and it comes in all shapes and sizes.” 

“And colors, and genders, and backgrounds…” Mama D adds.

“Exactly,” Mama C says. “Now stop with all the self-imposed shame and regret, have some eggnog with your moms, and then go have fun.”

So Nini takes another barely-palatable sip from her glass and smiles. The realization hits her like a train at full speed, causing her heart to swell until she can practically feel it in the back of her throat. Her moms are right that her friends are more like family now. This trip is a culmination. It’s the result of a year and a half of change and growth and frustration and triumph. It’s the celebration of friendships forged in fire. 

It almost feels wrong. Her life is far from perfect, but it’s full and rich and far more than she would have dared to hope for when she was younger. And it seems incomprehensible to her that she could deserve so much - a talented, fierce, inspiring best friend, and a loving, caring boyfriend who fills her life with warmth and music, and a beautiful little family of friends who each bring something unique and charming to her life. She’s only in her early-twenties. It feels odd to feel this content so young. It feels like she accidentally skipped a few steps and missed a couple of setbacks. But deserved or not, this is her life, and she is determined to honor and celebrate and appreciate it. The end of the year is a time for reflection and gratitude, after all.

“Thanks for understanding, moms,” Nini says, forcing herself to take another sip of eggnog and faking a smile. She finds that she doesn’t even really mind the taste that much anymore. “It’s funny… I never thought I could feel this fulfilled.” 

Ashlyn’s white RAV4 pulls up at noon, loaded up with suitcases and snacks and snow gear and Kourtney and Gina loudly duetting to “Baby It’s Cold Outside.” By 12:05, they’re locked, loaded, and ready to go. Nini climbs into the back seat beside Kourtney and they set off just a few hours behind the boys. 

* * *

“Taco Bell!” Big Red exclaims, shouting over the sound of Ricky and Carlos belting out ‘Wonderwall’ in not-quite-perfect harmony. He points to the fast food restaurant looming along the side of the highway. “Can we stop?” 

“You’re kidding,” EJ says, glancing into the rearview mirror to make eye-contact with the redhead. 

“I would never kid about superior fast food,” Red counters.

“Ugh,” the PE teacher groans. “I haven’t had Taco Bell in years.”

“Years?” Red gasps. “How can anyone resist the call of a cheesy gordita crunch?” 

“My body is a temple.” 

“Well can we desecrate that temple? Because I’m starving,” Carlos says as the song comes to an end. 

“Fine,” EJ sighs and merges into the right lane as the car erupts into cheers. “Nobody eats healthy on vacation anyway, right?” 

The Taco Bell is still stuck in the 90s. The floor is lined with gray tile, flecked with mysterious spots. The booths and tables are multi-colored laminate, and the dining area is adorned in bizarre, purple-and-green geometric shapes.

“Remember,” Ricky admonishes his best friend as they enter the restaurant. “You can order anything you want as long as there are no beans.” 

Seb turns to the music teacher with an arched brow when he overhears. “Any particular reason?” 

Big Red smiles sheepishly. “There was an...incident in junior year.” 

“Not  _ an  _ incident,” Ricky cuts in sharply. “ _ The  _ incident.” 

Seb blinks quizzically. “What was  _ the  _ incident?” 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Ricky shudders.

They place their orders at the counter, and when Seb orders an extra large Mountain Dew Baja Blast, Carlos bemoans the sugar content in the beverage. “You’re going to be off-the-walls literally all night,” he complains, but there is no heat in his tone.

“You should be thanking me then,” Seb smiles suggestively.

* * *

“I can’t believe they actually named a town Helper,” Gina says as Ashlyn pulls the car into a parking space in front of a small coffee shop. 

“I think it’s a cute name,” Kourtney answers, unfastening her seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. 

“And a cute place,” Nini adds, taking in the picturesque, old western-style buildings and the stunning, white-peaked mountains that loom in the near distance, dark clouds hanging over them. A biting wind picks up as she climbs out of the back of Ashlyn’s car, whipping her hair into her face. Freshly-laid road salt crunches under her boots as she follows the others inside. 

The coffee shop is warm and quaint, covered in plush, red fabrics and gleaming wood finishes. Smooth jazz music plays over a tinny radio, and a middle-aged woman stands behind the bar drying a ceramic mug. The top of her head is just visible over the assortment of pastries covered with glass lids on the counter. Nini unwraps her scarf, removes her gloves, and steps closer to the electric fireplace to warm up while she squints at the chalkboard menu.

“Just passing through?” the barista asks, setting down the mug and pushing a few buttons on the cash register. 

“You can tell?” Ashlyn asks with a smile as she steps up to the counter. 

The woman smiles back. “Well you’re definitely not one of my regulars, and not too many people would brave this cold for a cup of coffee. What can I get for you?” 

They place their orders and huddle together on the sofa in front of the electric fireplace. A fake Christmas tree blinks beside it, the multicolored bulbs scattering a rainbow of lights across the wood floor and wall. The mantle is lined with small stockings. Sensing the mood, the barista changes the music from jazz to slow, easy instrumental versions of Christmas carols. Nini leans against Kourtney, her cheek resting against the cool material of her down jacket. The barista brings out their steaming mugs of coffee and plates of sandwiches, sets them on the low coffee table in front of them, and returns to drying mugs behind the bar. The wind whips snow off the ground, swirling it in the air. It shimmers like pixie dust, catching the bright sunlight and reflecting it. Gina laughs at something Ashlyn says, and Kourtney reaches for her mug. Nini smiles, but she isn’t sure why. All she knows is that the warmth that washes over her isn’t just from the fireplace.

The sky continues to darken as they emerge from the coffee shop, its warmth chasing them onto the street. Ashlyn unlocks the car and looks up at the sky. “Looks like the storm’s coming in.” 

Gina frowns. “I don’t remember a storm in the forecast this early.” 

Kourtney chuckles. “It’s Utah in December. There’s always a storm in the forecast.” 

Ashlyn starts the car and immediately jumps as “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls blasts from the speakers at a much higher volume than reasonable. A high-pitched chime emits from the dashboard, just audible above Scary Spice’s voice. “Low fuel,” the redhead murmurs, turning the volume down and the heat up. “We should stop for gas before we head out of here. I don’t wanna get caught on the side of the road with a storm coming in.”

They stop at a small service station just off the main road in Helper. Ashlyn inserts her credit card in the pump while Gina inserts the nozzle into the gas tank. Nini stares at the mountains. She’s never been to this part of Utah before, and while she always knew her home state was full of mountains, she’s never seen one quite this large or quite this close. She knows it’s an optical illusion - that the snow-covered peak is miles off - but from where she stands, leaning against the car while the wind tosses icy shards of old snow in her face, it looks like she could just walk off the road and start climbing. She wonders if the mountains in Aspen will be this majestic, and what it would be like to stare out at this vista with Ricky beside her, her gloved hand in his. 

“You good, Neens?” Kourtney questions, standing beside her. 

“Huh? Yeah,” the brunette shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You got all spacey for a second,” her best friend notes. 

“Just admiring the scenery,” she says. “It’s so...big.” 

“Yup,” her best friend laughs, patting her shoulder. “Now imagine skiing down one.” 

Nini gulps and smiles sheepishly. She hadn’t considered how high up she would be, with nothing but two fiberglass tubes strapped to her feet. Perhaps a ski trip wasn’t the best idea for someone deathly afraid of heights. She wonders if she’ll be better off staying in the lodge, watching Ricky hurtle down the mountain at breakneck speeds, no doubt showing off. 

She checks her phone and finds a text from Big Red, accompanied by a much-too-close image of a Taco Bell bag. 

* * *

**East High Teachers of the Year (and Friends)**

**_3:28 PM_ **

**_red hot:_ ** _ Stopped for sustenance! _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ don’t worry. i made him specify no beans _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ Good. I don’t think Airbnb insurance covers exploded bathrooms. _

**_armie hammer:_ ** _ so anyway we’re making pretty good time so far! should get there in about 2 or 3 hours _

**_c-rod:_ ** _ thank god too. seb’s all sugared up and i don’t know how much longer i can keep him contained in an enclosed space _

**_Horatio Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian:_ ** _ my hands won’t stop shaking!!! :) :) :) _

**_armie hammer:_ ** _ how far out are you guys?  _

**_The Notorious A.M.C.:_ ** _ Still in Utah _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ we would be a lot further along if ashlyn didn’t drive so slow _

**_The Notorious A.M.C.:_ ** _ I’m driving the speed limit!!! _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ are you familiar with the mathematical concept of a lower limit? _

**_armie hammer:_ ** _ i like gina’s approach. maybe you should let her drive _

**_The Notorious A.M.C.:_ ** _ As if. I just finished paying this car off last year. Anyway we’re in Helper. Should be leaving soon. _

**_c-rod:_ ** _ the town is called Helper? _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ yeah, it threw me off too _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ It’s a cute little town though. Wish you were here _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ me too _

* * *

“Oh my god,” Gina frowns at her phone and shakes her head. 

“What?” Ashlyn pulls her eyes off the road for a moment, glancing at the math teacher slumped in the passenger seat. 

“Your cousin,” Gina snorts, rolling her eyes and smirking despite herself. 

“What did he do now?” 

“Check his Instagram story.” 

“I’m driving!” 

“I’m not,” Kourtney says, holding her hands out. Gina passes the phone to her and she immediately positions it so that both she and Nini can watch. 

The video is an unflatteringly close-up shot of the side of his face. The mountain scenery whizzes by in a blur and the background is full of road noise and the faint beat of “Allstar” by Smashmouth, which makes Nini cringe. Definitely her boyfriend’s doing, probably at the behest of Big Red. “Are you filming?” EJ asks. 

“Yeah.” Even offscreen, Nini recognizes Ricky’s voice immediately.

“Wait, like right now?” EJ hazards a quick glance away from the road and toward the phone in his face. 

“Yeah, dude, go!” Ricky says, urgency in his tone. 

“Well now I don’t have enough time!” EJ complains. “Delete it and start over.” 

“Oh,” Ricky feigns cluelessness. Nini can practically see the impish smirk forming on his face. “I’m hopeless with social media, EJ. How does Instagram work? Do I push this button to delete it?” 

“Ricky, I swear if you post that,” EJ warns, but his threatening tone gives way immediately to friendly irritation. 

The story continues to the next video. This time, the phone is positioned perfectly between the driver and passenger seat, with the backs of EJ and Ricky’s heads visible. Suddenly, the video swivels around to reveal Carlos holding the phone. “EJ and Ricky are amateurs who don’t know how to record a video, so Seb and I are gonna show them how it’s done and Big Red’s gonna help.” He pans the camera out to reveal the blond on his right and the redhead on his left. “Where are we going, boys?” 

“Aspen!” they reply in not-quite-unison. 

“If EJ doesn’t drive us off a cliff, that is,” he adds. 

“Don’t tempt me!” EJ shouts good-naturedly. 

“They’re gonna crash,” Kourtney shakes her head, handing the phone back to Gina. 

“Oh, stop,” Nini says with a faint giggle, trying to put the image of EJ’s Jeep flipped over on the side of a mountain road out of her mind. She’s acutely aware of the fact that she’s worrying about nothing. EJ is a good driver. A safe one, with good reflexes. And while the boys may be goofing off, none of them would take any undue risks. They’ll be fine. But still, with the sky growing darker and threatening snow at any minute, she can’t help but feel a little afraid. Nevermind the fact that she wouldn’t be at all worried if she were in the car with them, witnessing their antics in real time. It’s the fact that half her friends - half her family - are there while she’s here, unable to see what’s happening. 

“Alright, girls, let’s show them how it’s done,” Gina says, leaning over in the passenger seat and holding her phone out in front of her at arm’s length. Ashlyn is just visible in the corner of the screen, while Kourtney and Nini lean into view. Gina pushes the button to begin recording. “One take, girls, where are we going?” 

“Aspen!” they shout. 

Gina grins into the camera. “Family vacation starts now.” She stops the recording, tags EJ in the video, posts it, then turns her attention to the scenic views of the mountains along I-70. It occurs to her that this might be her first real family vacation. All she ever did as a child was travel from disaster zone to disaster zone with her mother. Their journeys were far from recreational, and her mom’s work didn’t allow for much time off. She glances around the car at Kourtney, who scrolls through her phone, at Nini, who hums subconsciously to the Maggie Rogers song playing on the radio, and at Ashlyn who stares intently at the road ahead, hands positioned at ten-and-two. She decides there’s no other group of people she’d rather go on her first family vacation with. 

* * *

“Snow’s starting,” Ricky points out as they pass the exit for Clifton, not far over the state line. The flakes are wide and heavy, and they seem to dangle in midair for a few seconds before falling to the ground and dotting the windshield. Snow drifts are already forming on the shoulder, and the wind blows white clouds across the highway, forcing EJ to tap the brakes as his vision is obscured.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a rough storm, too,” the PE teacher notes grimly, turning on the wipers. “It was only supposed to be a dusting…”

“How much further?” Ricky asks. 

EJ checks the GPS. “Still about two hours out. I was gonna suggest stopping to stretch, but at this rate, we might be better off if we keep moving. Who knows what’ll happen if we stop now. ” 

“Can we stop for a bathroom at least?” Seb pleads. “That Baja Blast is about to Baja Burst my bladder.” 

“Hang on, I think there’s an empty water bottle in here somewhere,” EJ murmurs, making a show of searching cupholders. 

“Ew!” Carlos shrieks. 

“What?” EJ snickers. “It’s the ultimate port-a-potty!” 

“Yeah,” Ricky piles on, shooting the PE teacher a sly grin. “For when you need to go on the go.” 

“Eric James Caswell,” Carlos retorts severely, “I don’t give a damn if it’s snowing or hurricaning or goddamn avalanching! I swear to god you better pull over at the next rest area we see!” 

“Alright, alright, relax,” EJ soothes. “I was joking. Mostly.” 

By the time they reach the next rest area and pull off the highway, the snowfall has picked up. The lazy, slow-falling flakes have given way to a frenzy of driving wind and snow that clings to the road, the car, the buildings. It tangles in EJ’s eyelashes and Ricky’s curls as they make the mad dash to the car, cups of coffee emblazoned with the service station convenience store’s logo in their hands. Big Red emerges from the rest area a moment later, unbothered by the cold despite only wearing a hoodie.

EJ shakes his head in amusement as the redhead clambers into the backseat. “You know,” he says, “a lot of lightning strike victims report that they can no longer feel heat or cold. You ever been struck by lightning?” 

“It would explain a lot,” Ricky teases. 

Carlos and Seb exit the service area arm-in-arm. “Good news and bad news,” Carlos announces when they’ve tucked themselves safely into the warm backseat of the Jeep. “Which do you want first?” 

“Good news first,” Ricky requests. 

“I don’t have to pee anymore!” Seb says cheerfully. 

“And the bad?” EJ asks. 

“Just checked the forecast and it’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Carlos reports. “They’re saying it might even be the worst blizzard in the last ten years. Aspen is supposed to get at least two feet of snow by the time it’s all over. It’s gonna snow all night.” 

“All night?” Ricky can’t help the note of dismay in his voice. His thoughts immediately go to Nini and the girls, still hours behind them. He wonders if they’ve hit the snowstorm yet, and if so, if they’ll make it through. 

EJ sighs and watches as the ground and parked cars continue to get buried under the snow. A large plow truck rumbles past, orange lights blinking and a salt spreader spinning rapidly behind it. 

It’s not fair. He spent hours agonizing over the details of this trip, scouring Airbnb for the perfect getaway. He spent all of the past weekend stocking up on supplies. And they just drove for seven hours. Turning back now would be a waste, and quite likely impossible given the rapidly worsening conditions. “What do you guys think?” he says, twisting in his seat to face his friends.

“Is there even a point to going to Aspen? If it’s buried under two feet of snow, it’s not like we’ll be able to do much,” Seb says. “And that’s assuming we all even make it there without getting stuck.” 

“But we can’t just turn around,” Big Red counters. “What if we get stuck trying to make it back home? At least in Aspen we have a place to stay. We can ride it out.” 

Ricky furrows his brow and reaches for his phone. He scrolls through his contacts and pauses, thumb hovering above the name  _ Dad _ . “How far is Denver?” he blurts, interrupting the back-and-forth going on around him.

A perplexed expression passes over EJ’s face. “Couple hours. Why?” 

Ricky nods. “I...need to make a call,” he says enigmatically, reaching for the door handle and tumbling out into the swirling cold. He is relieved when no one asks him why.

* * *

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Ricky stands in the rest area lobby, pacing back and forth before the glass doors that are fogged with condensation. The woman behind the Wendy’s counter eyes him quizzically. Four rings. Five. He checks the number to make sure he didn’t accidentally press the wrong contact. Six rings. Seven. What if his dad doesn’t want to talk to him? What if he’s grown tired of years and years of friendly phone calls and promises to visit that never materialize?

“Hello?” 

Ricky’s heart skips a beat and he nearly drops the phone. “Dad?” he says breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” his dad answers, his tone as upbeat as ever. “What’s up? Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, Dad, everything’s fine,” Ricky says automatically, then pauses. “Actually… Maybe not everything.” 

“What’s wrong?” He can hear the concern in his dad’s voice, and a wave of guilt washes over him. It’s been years since he’s been out to visit his father, and now, out of the blue, he’s asking him to bail him and his friends out. He wouldn’t blame his dad for saying no, or for at least feeling slighted.

“So remember how I told you my friends and I were going to Aspen? Well, we’re by Clifton right now and there’s a snowstorm rolling in. Carlos said it might be the worst blizzard in a decade.”

“Say no more,” Mike interjects. “The snow hasn’t started out here yet. If you can make it out of Clifton, keep following I-70. It’ll take you to Denver in a few hours.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!” his dad answers easily, as if this is a routine occurrence. As if he and his friends stop by all the time. As if it hasn’t been years since they last saw one another in person, despite living in neighboring states. “You’re welcome to wait it out here. You can stay as long as you need.” 

“You’re a lifesaver, Dad.” Ricky is unable to hide the wide grin that overtakes his features. Relief floods his veins.

“Any friend of yours is a child of mine. I’ll get the guest room ready.” 

“Uh, actually... We might need a little more than just the guest room. There’s five of us. Nine total including Nini and the girls. I don’t know if they’re gonna make it tonight, though.” 

“Even better,” his father replies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! Chapter 2. Next chapter will be a continuation of this one. I've got part of it done, but I can't promise when the whole thing will be finished. Thanks for sticking with me this far, and I would love to know what you think so far. (And don't worry - the final few chapters of this story go all-in on the Christmas vibes, even if we aren't quite getting it yet. What a coincidence given they recently announced a Holiday Special for HSMTMTS!)


	3. All Families Huddle Closely, Betting Warmth Against the Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a late-night update! And it's an extra long one, too. I had a weeklong break last week, and I took a lot of time to write (in between celebrating the US election results). Anyway, this feels like a return to form for me. I'm happy with it, and I hope you'll enjoy it, too. Thank you for sticking with me and with this story for so long. I would love to hear your thoughts on this update.

**East High Teachers of the Year (and Friends)**

**_5:41 PM_ **

**_armie hammer:_ ** _ new plan. weather’s making it hard to reach aspen _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ Yeah. The blizzard warnings kinda gave it away _

**_red eye:_ ** _ well if you think the warnings are bad wait till you see the actual storm that’s headed your way _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ oh it’s not headed our way. we’re already in it _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ holy shit! are you guys alright?  _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ We’re okay! It’s just hard to see with all the snow _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ pull over if you have to!  _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ We’ll be fine! Ash is a good driver _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ we’re gonna try to make it to my dad’s place in denver. the blizzard hasn’t reached there yet. if you can make it tonight, he said he’s more than happy to let us stay as long as we need _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ Something tells me we aren’t gonna be able to make it to Denver tonight. We’ll keep you updated _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ ok. i’ll send the address just in case. drive safe! _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ you too! _

* * *

“The snow is expected to continue falling throughout the night, and meteorologists predict that Aspen could get anywhere from two to three feet of snow by the time all’s said and done. The governor has declared a state of emergency in the region, and travelers are advised to remain indoors until plowing and salting efforts are completed. Keep your radios tuned to WCOL. Weather updates every twenty minutes. I’m Kelly Morgan and our next report will be -” 

Ashlyn switches the audio settings and the music returns, filling the warm cabin with Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat’s voices dueting softly. “Well,” the redhead says, leaning forward in the driver’s seat as if to see better through the blur of white in front of them. “Doesn’t look like we’re getting out of this mess anytime soon.”

Ahead of them, a snow plow forges bravely through the dark and blizzard-streaked evening, throwing piles of snow to the side of the highway. The yellow-and-orange lights pierce through the cloudy darkness, illuminating the car’s interior. They pass a car stuck on a snowbank, its tires spinning aimlessly while a group of guys in a lifted pickup try to push it from behind. 

“Are we gonna be able to make it to Denver?” Nini asks, though she has a feeling she already knows the answer. 

Ashlyn sighs. “I don’t know, Neens. It’s getting pretty bad.” 

“There’s another one,” Gina points to a second car, this one abandoned with its blinkers on. 

“Maybe we should find a place to stop,” Kourtney suggests. “Let the worst of it pass and give everyone time to dig out. We can drive the rest of the way to Denver in the morning.” 

“Good idea,” Gina concurs. Visions of landslides and avalanches flash in her mind: roofs collapsed and cars spun around in a full one-eighty, abandoned in the middle of the roadway. “Take it from a girl who’s seen her fair share of disasters: if it’s even half as bad as they’re predicting, we won’t wanna be on the road for much longer.” 

Nini sighs. They’re right, of course. The air is thick and heavy with snow, and even with the headlights on and the wipers going at full speed, it’s nearly impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the windshield. They should stop. It’s the safe, reasonable thing to do. But some part of her wants to press on knowing that Ricky is only a few hours ahead. 

It’s not like they haven’t spent nights apart before. Hell, they did it for months before he moved in. But there was never the threat of a blizzard, and there was never any uncertainty about when she would see him again. They should stop and find a place to rest, she tells herself, if only to stop herself from pleading to keep going. But as Kourtney starts Googling for hotels in the area, Nini can’t help but feel that she would sleep much better in Ricky’s arms, where his space-heater warmth could envelop her and she wouldn’t have to worry and hope and pray that he was safe.

Twenty minutes of snow squalls and buffeting winds later, Ashlyn makes the executive decision to pull off the highway at Grand Junction. The mesas and cliffs loom in the distance, barely visible through the darkness and whiteout conditions. Snow banks have formed along the streets, blocking the entrances to parking lots and driveways as the girls ease down the road at well under the speed limit. 

“Booked. Booked. Booked. Condemned. Booked. Damn, you’d think a place that sells itself on tourism would have more hotels,” Kourtney complains. 

“It’s Christmas,” Gina sighs. “Last minute bookings are kinda hard to come by.” 

“Wait, I found one,” Kourtney says. “The Junction Motor Lodge.” 

“Never heard of it,” Ashlyn says.

“Yeah, well it’s less than one star, so I’m not surprised,” Kourtney answers. 

“Well, it beats freezing in the car overnight,” Gina points out. “So if it’s the only place with a vacancy…” 

* * *

The Junction Motor Lodge is a squat, solitary two-story block of buildings just off I-70. Nini can just make out the half-lit neon sign, flickering “Vacancy” against the swirling snow. Only a handful of snowed-in cars dot the parking lot, and Ashlyn has to coax the RAV4 over the massive snow drift that blocks the entrance. Nini steps out into the blizzard, the snow stinging her eyes as she raises a hand to shield herself from it. She wonders if Ricky had time to buy a hat. Knowing him, he forgot all about it the second he climbed into the car. She would text him to ask, but the thick gloves on her hands make it difficult. 

The motel lobby is located in a small, triangle-shaped building in the center of the parking lot. A balding, bored-looking middle aged man leans against the counter, his glasses perched across the bridge of his nose as he thumbs through a Christmas catalog. He looks up as the girls enter, their coats slick with melting snowflakes and their suitcases trailing behind them. Nini wrinkles her nose at the smell of mildew that hangs in the air. 

“Evening, ladies,” the man says, his voice a dry crackle that is barely audible over the sound of the artificial fireplace. “Nice weather, isn’t it?” 

“The nicest,” Ashlyn says with a wry smile. “The sign out front says you have vacancies. Is that still true?” 

The man laughs dryly. “We’ve had vacancies since the mid-80s. How many rooms would you like?” 

“Just one is fine,” the redhead replies as Gina sidles up to the counter beside her. “We’re only looking to stay for one night.” 

“Riding out the storm?” 

“Something like that,” Gina says. 

The man nods and begins to type something into the ancient computer on the counter. “Where are you all headed?”

“We  _ were  _ heading to Aspen,” Ashlyn answers. “But it looks like we’re gonna have to skip the ski trip and head straight to Denver instead.” 

“I would,” the man sniffs. “Don’t think you’ll get much out of the slopes after this storm. Haven’t seen snow like this in decades. I can get you into a room with two queen beds. It’s normally sixty dollars per night, but since it’s Christmas and since you’re stuck here, I’ll make it fifty.” 

“That’s mighty generous,” Gina smiles as Ashlyn hands the man her credit card.

He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m full of holiday spirit.” He reaches behind the counter and produces a key on a scratched metal keychain. “Room 114. It’s on the right side of the complex. Ground floor. If you need anything, just call over.” 

Ashlyn takes the key and thanks the man, and together, the four trudge back through the blizzard to reach their room.

* * *

By the time the boys reach Ricky’s dad’s house, it is just past eight o’clock. Even so, Ricky can feel the tiredness in his bones as he emerges from the warm car and takes in the sight of the two-story colonial, its windows glowing with yellow light. He hadn’t even had time to process what this change of plans would mean. His first visit to his dad’s house - his first time seeing his dad in person - in years, and it happened because of an unexpected blizzard that drastically altered their vacation plans. He feels the guilt begin to creep up on him, starting in the pit of his stomach and working its way to his throat. If things had gone to plan, he wouldn’t be standing here. He would’ve been in the same state as his dad, a mere two hours away, on Christmas and the idea of visiting him never would have occurred. And yet, here he is with a car full of his friends, seeking refuge just as he did every summer when he was kid. 

Unlike his mom’s house, his dad’s hasn’t changed. Then again, it wasn’t exactly falling apart when Mike bought it. The siding is still the same shade of beige, perhaps a bit more faded from the sun. Topiaries and low bushes - nothing but bare branches and brambles now - line the concrete walkway leading up to the cream-colored door, the bronze sconce ablaze beside it. He shouldn’t be nervous. This is his father - easygoing, cheerful, amicable to a fault. And he’d sounded enthusiastic and inviting on the phone. But Ricky can’t help the way his heart starts to beat faster as he trudges through the shin-high snow to the front door while EJ and the others struggle to unload the luggage. He takes a deep breath, extends one gloved finger toward the doorbell, and pushes it before he can stop to reconsider. 

Chimes echo from deep within the house, and a moment later he can hear the lock turning. The front door eases open, and there is his father, bundled up in a heavy wool sweater and smiling at him behind the fogged-up glass of the storm door. 

“Ricky!” Mike says. His voice is warm and rich, full of genuine happiness. Suddenly, Ricky is seventeen again, standing on this same porch in the middle of July, with a hot Colorado sun beating down on him and six weeks’ worth of clothes crammed into his suitcase. Only it’s winter now, and his cheeks are rosy, and his nose is red and runny. He’s not a teenager anymore. And instead of his entire summer wardrobe, the suitcase now contains winter wear and a diamond ring.

“Hi, Dad,” Ricky says, so softly he isn’t sure whether Mike heard him. A cloud of breath hangs in the air between them. 

Mike pushes the storm door open and a rush of warm air bursts forth from the foyer. “Come in,” he urges, holding out a callused hand for Ricky’s suitcase. Ricky hands the bag to his father and winces when Mike lets out a grunt of exertion. In the light of the foyer, he can see that the weathered lines in his dad’s face are much deeper now than before. His hair and stubble are flecked with gray. And judging by the way his face contorts with the effort of lifting the suitcase, his bones have also aged with him. Ricky takes the bag back, then casts a glance over his shoulder at his friends. 

“I’m gonna go help the guys with the rest of the stuff,” he announces. 

“Want some help?” Mike offers.

Ricky smiles wanly. “No thanks, Dad. I got this.” 

* * *

They gather in the foyer and shake the cold dampness from their coats. Carlos peels his mittens off and sets them on the bannister alongside Ricky’s gloves and EJ’s scarf. 

“So,” Mike claps his hands together and smiles at the boys gathered in the front hall. “Are you going to introduce me to the gang?” 

Ricky smiles at his friends. “Dad, this is EJ Caswell, the most legendary coach in the Salt Lake City area.” He gestures to the PE teacher, who smiles charmingly and offers Mike a hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bowen.” 

“Mike’s fine,” Mike answers, accepting the handshake. 

“This is Seb Matthew-Smith, the most talented choreographer in the Mountain States,” Ricky continues. 

“Hey!” Carlos protests. 

Ricky grins. “And Carlos Rodriguez, the  _ other  _ most talented choreographer in the Mountain States.” 

“And elsewhere,” Carlos adds. “Nice to meet you.” 

“And, Dad, you remember Big Red, right? “

“How could I forget?” Mike grins, offering the redhead a hug. 

“Guys,” Ricky turns to his friends. “This is my dad.” 

“Thanks for letting us wait out the storm here, Mike,” EJ says. 

“Mi casa es su casa,” Mike answers. “Make yourselves at home.” 

Just like the exterior, the interior of the house hasn’t undergone any drastic changes since the last summer Ricky spent here, between sophomore and junior year of high school. The walls have been repainted - the living room is green instead of beige - and he can tell that his dad refurbished the hardwood floors. The house always struck Ricky as being a little too much for just his dad. Three bedrooms and two-and-a-half baths felt like too much for a single man, even with the vague notion that his son would come to stay often enough to make it worthwhile. Mike had dated a few women over the years. Sandy, who’d lasted the longest, was with him for almost four years. But none of those relationships panned out. Ricky never bothered to ask why - he was never truly invested in his parents’ subsequent romantic partners - but he always suspected his father never fully learned to trust again after his mother’s infidelity. 

The sleeping areas are quickly determined. Big Red is given the futon in the basement, where his sleep apnea machine and his white noise maker can’t disturb the rest of the household. Carlos and Seb take the guest bedroom, leaving Ricky to share the queen-sized pullout in the office with EJ. 

“Don’t worry. I’m a great co-sleeper,” EJ promises with a playful smirk. 

“Trust me. I roomed with Big Red for years. I can sleep through anything,” Ricky replies evenly. 

* * *

“Okay, this place is capital-C crusty,” Kourtney says, wrinkling her nose at the peeling green paint on the door of their room. 

“It’s just one night,” Ashlyn says, inserting the key into the lock and wiggling it a few times before it finally gives. She eases the door open, and the smell of cigarette smoke and mildew immediately assaults their noses. “One long night,” the redhead sighs, fumbling along the wall until she finds the lightswitch and snaps it on. 

The dim, flickering light reveals a room that clearly hasn’t been redecorated since the nineties. The carpet is a dark gray mottled with spots of teal, yellow, purple, and red. The couch is upholstered in a sickly shade of greenish-yellow, decorated with a busy floral print. The bedsheets on the two queen-sized beds don’t match. One is covered in a pink and turquoise grid pattern while the other is a faded shade of navy with a red and yellow confetti pattern. The wallpaper is yellowed and peeling and the salmon-colored couch sags in one corner of the room, the center cushion dominated by a mysterious brown stain. 

Nini scrunches her nose up as she drags her suitcase into the room and takes in the surroundings. The vacations she took as a child were by no means lavish, but even the inns and budget hotels her moms had booked were miles better than this. A crime documentary plays loudly from a few doors down, the muffled sounds of ominous music and a detached, deep-voiced narrator just audible in the room. The smell of weed wafts through the vents that blow a weak stream of heat into the space. She checks her phone for an update from the boys, but finds there are no new notifications. She fires off a text to Ricky.  _ Just got to the motel for the night. Let me know when you reach your dad’s place! _

His reply is almost instantaneous.  _ Will do! How’s the room?  _

She can’t help but smile at her screen, even though the room is a disaster.  _ Let’s just say I can’t wait to tell you all about it when I see you tomorrow. _

“Ew!” Kourtney squeals, darting from the bathroom with her arms flailing 

“What happened?” Nini gasps, instinctively reaching out for her best friend. She pulls Kourtney behind her and turns to face the direction she came from. 

“Roach,” Kourtney gags, pointing in the general direction of the open bathroom door. “In the sink. I would puke if it didn’t mean I had to go back in there.” 

It’s classic Kourtney. Her best friend is fearless in most regards. She’s faced down boardrooms full of skeptical investors, pitched her fledgling business idea to a dozen bored-faced professors who told her a woman like her wouldn’t make it far in the industry, especially not with her morals intact. She’s told off a hundred creepy guys at bars and restaurants and frat parties, and in sixth grade, Nini watched as Kourtney gave Paige Harrison - the meanest girl in middle school - such a dressing-down that she cried. But ask Kourtney to deal with a bug - even an ant - and she might faint. 

Gina smirks in amusement and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll take care of it,” she says, sauntering into the bathroom. A moment later, her voice echoes from within. “Kourt?” 

“Uh-uh,” Kourtney shakes her head emphatically. “I’m not going in there. I’ve got two little brothers. I know this game. I’m gonna walk in there and you’re gonna shove that nasty-ass bug in my face to scare me.” 

Gina reappears in the doorway. “I’m offended you think so little of me,” she says with mock indignation. “I wasn’t gonna do that. I was actually going to tell you that it’s already dead.” 

“I don’t care!” Kourtney says. “Alive, dead. Doesn’t matter to me! Flush that thing!” She waits until she hears the toilet flush before braving the bathroom once more, watching with fascination and horror as Gina washes her hands and gingerly dries them. “How are you so chill about this?” she questions.

The math teacher shrugs coolly. “This place isn’t so bad. I’ve lived in everything from motels to mobile homes to tents in the middle of disaster zones.” 

* * *

The WiFi cuts in-and-out, causing Netflix to buffer each time the signal drops. It’s fine by Nini. She’d only agreed to watch it so that she had something to distract her from the constant urge to text Ricky for an update. The rom-com was beginning to get ridiculous anyway. How could the protagonist not have realized her boyfriend plagiarized “Annabel Lee?” Even if she didn’t recognize the poem, surely she would’ve known he wasn’t capable of writing poetry like that. Or perhaps it’s the sort of thing only an English teacher would nitpick about. 

“Okay, I quit,” Ashlyn says, rising from the bed where she was sprawled out beside Gina. She shuts off the TV and unplugs her laptop.

“It was a dumb movie anyway,” Gina shrugs. 

“And obviously their relationship was toxic,” Kourtney agrees. 

Nini glances at her phone. It’s a quarter past seven. Ricky had said Denver was two hours away, but that wasn’t factoring in the terrible weather. Still, they should be closing in on his dad’s house by now. Assuming they aren’t stuck on a snowbank somewhere, which isn’t likely given the massive lift EJ put on the Jeep. But what if something worse happened? What if they spun out or rolled over? She forces the thought from her head. It’s Christmas, and Christmas is a time for miracles. Perhaps the miracle this year is that they’ll all arrive safely and see each other soon. 

“Well now what do we do?” Gina says after a minute. “It’s too early to go to bed.” 

Kourtney shifts on the mattress next to Nini. “It’s never too early for bed,” she counters. 

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time and nothing to do. Why don’t we just talk?” Ashlyn suggests. 

Nini sets her phone down and sits up, smiling softly. “Good idea,” she concurs. “I feel like we’ve been so wrapped up in the chaos of the holiday season, we haven’t had a chance to catch up in forever.” 

The holiday season is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it’s always been Nini’s favorite. She’s always been enchanted by the twinkling lights of Christmas trees and menorahs, the crisp air that holds the promise of snow, wool sweaters and warm coffee. She’s always reveled in the joy of planning presents for each of her friends and family members: unique gifts that in some way capture everything they mean to her. But despite this careful planning, Christmas is inevitably when she feels the most detached from the people she loves. Between frantic last-minute shopping and baking and planning and decorating and mailing cards, there’s rarely any time to meet up with Kourtney for a cup of coffee. There’s seldom a chance to sit with Ashlyn and Gina and Seb in the faculty lounge with mugs of tea and a stack of ungraded papers, or to show up at a basketball game to cheer EJ and the team on. Big Red doesn’t swing by unexpectedly, and grabbing dinner with Carlos is less feasible. Even Ricky feels further away, despite sharing the same home and the same bed. And he definitely feels further away now. 

“Kourt, I hear you’re giving a TEDx talk?” Ashlyn turns to the designer, who smiles modestly. 

“Yeah, Howard University invited me to come speak in January,” she says. 

Nini turns to her best friend. “Kourt! That’s so great!” 

“Yeah,” Kourtney answers haltingly. “Maybe not so great.” 

“What? Why?” Nini frowns. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored,” she responds, turning to the others. “But I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of girl, you know? I like it better that way. I design the clothes. I make sure everything is running smoothly and efficiently. The spotlight just isn’t for me.” 

“Bullshit,” Ashlyn cuts in. “You’re magnetic, Kourt. Every room feels brighter when you walk into it. And every time I wear something you design, it fits me just right and makes me feel beautiful just the way I am. You  _ are  _ the spotlight. You make everyone feel more empowered with the work you do.”

Kourtney smiles. “Thanks, Ash. And don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and I’m honored they gave me this opportunity. But I don’t have a clue about what I’m gonna say or how I’m gonna say it. I’ll probably just look like a fool out there…” 

“Stage fright is normal,” Nini says, placing a gentle hand on Kourtney’s knee. “I mean, you’ve known me for how long? I’m the most anxious person there is when I’m in front of a crowd.” 

Her best friend scoffs. “Come on, Neens. You’re a teacher. You’re always in front of a crowd.” 

The English teacher smiles softly. “Yeah, but that’s different. Kids don’t judge the way an audience does. What I’m trying to say is, public speaking anxiety is normal. The trick is to manage it enough that it doesn’t distract you.” 

“Are you going to tell me to imagine the audience in their underwear?” Kourtney asks, her tone only half-joking. 

“God, no,” Nini giggles. “That’s a recipe for disaster. But there are other ways to help you manage stage fright. The first is to practice.” 

“That’s just it, though,” Kourtney says. “I’ll have a teleprompter, but still. What if I practice and practice, and then I get up there and I forget what I wanted to say? And even if I remember what I want to say, what if I talk too slow? Or too fast? What if I run out of time? What if I get up there, look out at all those college kids expecting me to say something inspirational, and freeze?” 

“There’s a trick I like to use when memorizing a script,” Nini says. “Take it four lines at a time. Practice the four lines over and over till you have them down, then add another four. It’s so much easier when you break things down into smaller chunks.” 

“Will that really work?” her best friend asks.

Nini shrugs. “It got an entire cast of understudies off-book in a couple of weeks.”

“And as far as pacing yourself, you can never really talk too slow,” Ashlyn adds. “Chances are, if you think you’re talking too slowly, you’re actually talking too fast. Don’t be afraid to pause and get your bearings. Silence actually helps you. It gives your audience time to digest what you just said.” 

“Try pressure points to soothe yourself,” Gina offers. She holds up a hand and gestures to the pad of skin between her thumb and index finger. “There’s one right here that you can subtly push down on. The audience won’t notice, but trust me. It does wonders to calm your nerves.” 

“I feel like I should be taking notes,” Kourtney laughs.

“Just be yourself,” Nini encourages. “Being yourself is how you made it this far, and it’s why they invited you to speak in the first place. You’re helping to redefine beauty standards, Kourt. And if I’ve learned anything from co-directing a show and a revue-lution, it’s that sometimes the people behind the spotlights are the ones with the most important things to say.” 

“Seriously,” Gina agrees. “Growing up, I never saw anyone who looked even remotely similar to me in the fashion industry. That’s changing, and you’re part of the reason why. You design for  _ every _ one. Different body types, different skin colors, different genders… You’re an inspiration, Kourt. I hope millions of young people will look up to you the way I do.” 

“You guys are gonna make me blush,” Kourtney says, but the smile that splits her face is wide and genuine, and if the pillow didn’t reek of cigarettes, she would bury her face in it and squeal with delight. “Okay, someone else go. I can’t be the only one with something big happening.” 

“I got a job offer,” Gina announces casually. 

“What?” Nini gasps, eyes wide. The last she and Gina had talked about it, the math teacher had made it seem like Salt Lake City was home for the long term. She hadn’t been aware that Gina was looking for a new job, and she can’t help but feel a little betrayed that her friend hadn’t said anything. Then again, after the latest drama with the superintendent, she supposes she can’t really blame Gina for looking to move on. 

“I didn’t know you were job hunting,” Ashlyn says with a slightly stung tone. 

“I wasn’t,” Gina answers easily. “One of my mom’s friends works at the Department of Defense Education Activity. There’s an opening on a base in South Korea and he wanted to know if I was interested.”

“Wow,” Nini forces a smile and tries to muster some enthusiasm into her tone. “That’s really great.” And it is. The opportunity to live in a new country must be great, especially for someone as well-traveled as Gina. A year-and-a-half ago, she would’ve jumped for joy at the news that Gina could be leaving East High. Now, she can’t help but feel a sense of loss. 

“I hear the relocation stipend is nice,” Ashlyn offers, searching for positives. 

“And I’ve heard South Korea is beautiful,” Kourtney adds.

“Yeah,” Gina nods, a smirk playing at her lips. “Too bad I told him no on the spot.” 

“What? Why would you pass that up?” Nini questions. 

Gina shrugs. “I’m done with the constant moving around. Besides, I chose Salt Lake City as my home, and I’ve chosen you guys as my family. I stand by that choice.” 

Nini’s face splits into a broad grin. “Gina!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” the math teacher rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “How about you, Ash?” she turns to the redhead. “Anything new in the lives of our favorite redheads?” 

“I’m assuming you mean me and Red,” Ashlyn laughs, and Gina shrugs in reply. “We’re taking it slow. Like  _ really  _ slow.” 

Nini can’t help but smile. It wasn’t so long ago when she and Ricky said the same thing about their own budding relationship. “I think that’s a good decision,” she says. “Any particular reason why?” 

Ashlyn shrugs. “I’m thinking about going back to school for my master’s degree. I think I want to be a principal one day. So we don’t want to take any major steps in our relationship before we both decide what we want for ourselves in the long term.” 

“Honestly, I wish everyone thought like that,” Gina says. “And one thing’s for sure,” she adds, “when you’re the principal of your own school, you better hire all of us.” 

“Heck yeah,” Nini concurs. “We would be a dream team.” 

“You better believe I’m bringing you all with me,” Ashlyn giggles. “You, too, Kourt. Every school needs a good design teacher.” 

“I’m in,” the designer says. “But I don’t come cheap.” 

“Okay, okay, now for the real question on everyone’s mind,” Ashlyn says, turning to face Nini. “You and Ricky.” 

Immediately, the English teacher feels heat start to rise to her cheeks. “What about us?” she deflects. 

Gina grins and begins to hum ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ 

Nini’s eyes widen as she takes in her friends’ expectant grins. “I don’t… I mean, we aren’t… We’ve talked about it,” she sighs. “And we’re basically on the same page.” 

“And that page is…?” Gina asks. 

Nini smiles despite herself, casting her eyes down at the threadbare comforter and tugging at a loose string. “I want to spend the rest of my life with Ricky,” she says. “And Ricky’s said the same.” 

“That boy’s come a long way,” Kourtney notes with a satisfied grin. “A few months ago, he couldn’t even admit he loved you. Now look at him! He’s ready to wife you up!” 

“Any idea when he’ll ask?” Ashlyn questions. 

Nini shakes her head. “No clue. But when he does, I’ll say yes.” She’s grateful when her phone vibrates, offering a welcome distraction from her friends’ squeals and gentle ribbing. She glances at the screen and sees a text from Ricky. 

_ Hey! Just got settled at my dad’s place _

“They arrived in Denver!” she says, disrupting the others’ chatter. 

Ashlyn lets out a sigh of relief.

* * *

“Guys!” Ricky calls, setting his mug of hot chocolate down on the coffee table and adjusting the laptop so that the camera captures the entire couch. “They’re on!” 

EJ tumbles onto the couch beside him and Big Red emerges from the basement. Seb enters the den in red plaid pajamas, and Carlos enters a moment later, clad in a fluffy robe and equally fluffy slippers. EJ sizes him quizzically. 

“Yes, he really did waste half the room in his luggage with that robe,” Seb says, sipping his hot chocolate as he perches on the end of the couch. 

“Self-care is never a waste, Sebastian,” Carlos huffs airily, taking a seat beside his boyfriend.

“His nightly ritual,” Seb tells the group with an amused smile, draping one arm around Carlos’s robe-clad shoulder. 

“I see you're settling in,” Nini notes with a smirk. 

“Yeah,” Ricky laughs. He can feel his friends’ eyes boring into him, watching with small smiles as he and Nini talk. He momentarily regrets suggesting they do a group video chat. He could have - should have - just FaceTimed Nini the way they did when she went to LA and in the first few days of his trip to Chicago. But then again, she’s sharing a motel room with Ashlyn, Gina, and Kourtney. Even if he managed to get some privacy from the guys, there’s nowhere Nini can go that the girls won’t hear. 

There are so many things he wants to say to her. Mostly that he misses her, that he’s glad she’s safe in Grand Junction (even if the accommodations suck), that he can’t wait for her to get here so that he can hug her. But he won’t say those things in front of all of their friends. They’ve all been very supportive of them, but there’s something a little uncomfortable about having private conversations in front of an audience. Besides, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep with the amount of ribbing EJ and Big Red would subject him to for the rest of the night.

He settles for a simple, “I miss you, Neens,” and hopes that his expression conveys the rest of the message. 

“I miss you, too,” Nini says, her voice a gentle murmur. “All of you,” she says after a moment, turning her eyes on the others in the room for the first time. 

“We miss you, too,” Big Red answers, raising his mug to his lips. When he finishes sipping, he comes away with a hot chocolate mustache and a dab of whipped cream on the tip of his nose. 

“Red, you’ve got a little…” Ashlyn starts, but is unable to finish her sentence before she is overcome with giggles. 

“I’ve got what?” Red feigns innocence, glancing at his friends on the couch. 

“Nothing,” EJ stifles a laugh of his own. “I see nothing wrong with this picture.” 

Gina glances up from her phone screen. “Well, weather’s saying the worst of the storm should pass tonight. Assuming the roads are clear, we could probably get an early start and make it to you guys by midmorning. I don’t know if Aspen’s really gonna be possible anymore, though.” 

“My dad said we’re welcome to spend Christmas here,” Ricky says. From his conversation with his father, he gets the sense Mike would even prefer it. 

“That might not be a bad idea,” EJ adds. “I doubt we’ll be able to do much in Aspen anyway. The owner of the Airbnb offered to refund us.” 

“It’s settled then. We’ll spend the night here and head straight to Denver in the morning,” Ashlyn says. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Kourtney speaks up. “I don’t care where we are tomorrow, but I can’t do another night in this place. I feel like I’m gonna get a rash.” 

* * *

A half hour later, EJ, Red, Carlos, and Seb head down to the basement to watch  _ Elf _ after discovering that Seb has never seen it. 

“How can you have never seen  _ Elf _ ? It’s a Christmas classic!” Carlos says with exaggerated disgust. 

Big Red turns around at the top of the stairs and looks at Ricky, who sits on the couch staring at a point on the floor. “Coming?” 

Ricky looks up with a start. “Hmm? Oh, you guys go ahead. I’ll catch up.” 

His best friend nods slowly. “You alright, dude?” 

The music teacher smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” 

Big Red doesn’t look convinced, but he heads down to the basement anyway. Ricky sits on the sofa, slightly slouched, for a minute longer, then gets up and heads into the kitchen where Mike sits at the table, perusing a copy of  _ Family Handyman _ . “Room for one more?” he asks, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. 

Mike looks up and smiles. “There’s always room,” he says, gesturing to the seat. 

Ricky slides into it. Mike removes his reading glasses and sets the magazine aside. They sit in silence for what feels like hours. Ricky traces the patterns in the wood with one finger. “So,” he says, drawing out the word. “It’s, uh… It’s been a while.” 

“It has,” Mike agrees. 

The younger Bowen shakes his head. “God, this is so awkward. I’m sorry, Dad.” 

“For what?” Mike asks gently. 

“For,” Ricky gestures vaguely in the air. “For everything. You’re my dad, and I haven’t seen you in so long that I don’t even know how to talk to you… I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort.” 

“I’ve wondered about that,” his father says carefully. “You know, I used to spend a lot of time wondering if I could’ve done something different. Something better. Maybe I really wasn’t the dad you needed me to be.”

“No,” Ricky looks up. “No, it’s not that at all, Dad. If anything, I’m a shitty son for-” 

Mike holds up a hand and shakes his head fondly. “Let me finish!” 

Ricky closes his mouth and goes back to inspecting the tabletop, bracing himself for whatever his dad might say next. He’s sure that whatever it is, he deserves to hear it. His relationship with his mother was strained from the moment he moved to Illinois with her. But he and his dad had always been close. Mike was the one who taught him how to skateboard. In third grade, when he went through a brief phase where he thought he might want to be a baseball player, his dad accompanied him to every Little League game. If he needed a ride, or had a fight with a friend, or needed advice about girls or school, his dad was the first person he called. And then the divorce happened and that gradually faded away. 

He’d always thought of that distance as mutual. He withdrew from his dad, and his dad withdrew from him. But after visiting his mother for Thanksgiving, after reflecting on the ways his assumptions had proven incorrect, and after countless hours talking about it with Nini, with Big Red, with EJ, with his therapist, he’d come to the realization that it was never mutual at all. It was just him. Angry, bitter, resentful, and ready to take it out on everyone. Angry at his mom for having an affair. Angry at his dad for not doing anything to try to convince her to stay, and for not fighting harder to keep him. Angry at Todd for cutting his family in two.

But most of all, he was angry at himself. Because he didn’t know what he was signing up for when he agreed to go with his mom. All he knew about divorce was that on TV, the kids always went with their mom. He’d chosen wrong and regretted it every day. But by then, the custody arrangement had been worked out in the divorce agreement. It was written and signed, and it felt immovable, and he was forced to live with a decision he’d made, even though he hated it. 

“Let me finish,” Mike repeats, more for himself than for his son. “I wondered for a long time, and then I tried to think about it from your perspective. You were a kid, Ricky. You didn’t know what any of this meant. And your mom and I… We were trying really hard not to influence your decision when you decided who to live with, but I realized that we didn’t really do a good job of explaining it to you, either. It must have been so confusing and upsetting, and I don’t think either of us was really very good at empathizing with that.”

“You kinda had a lot of other stuff going on,” Ricky puts in.

“Maybe,” Mike acknowledges. “What I’m saying is, I can’t blame you, son. With the way our family sort of got split apart, I can’t blame you for not visiting very often. You went out and started a life of your own. And it’s a good life, Ricky. I can tell just by seeing your friends. They’re good people who care about you. And Nini is something special. And the truth is, I should’ve made more of an effort, too. I was just afraid it would drive you away. I wish I had, though. You’ve got a great life, Rick. I wish I was there for more of it.” 

Ricky feels the familiar sting of tears pressing at the back of his eyes as he takes in the sight of his father, older and more tired than he’s ever seen him. “Well, there’s no time like the present to start,” he says, his voice choked. “It’s about to be a new year, right? And new years are about clean slates.” 

Mike smiles back. “I would like that. Very much.” 

“Then let’s start,” Ricky continues. “What’s new with you, Dad?” 

His father lets out a deep, genuine laugh. “About five years’ worth of stuff. But I’ll spare you the details.” 

“No, tell me,” the younger man insists. 

“Ah, well, I’ve been thinking about retiring,” Mike says at last, glancing around the kitchen. 

“Really?” 

“Yup. Contracting is hard work, and I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Dad,” Ricky says. “You look pretty damn good for your age.” 

“Maybe,” Mike laughs, “but my body doesn’t agree. My arthritis is getting worse and worse, and there’s hardly a day that goes by without my joints aching. I think it’s time. My old apprentice is interested in buying the business. He’s a good guy. Honest, hardworking. And he’s willing to give me a fair price.” 

The day was a long time coming, Ricky supposes. His parents aren’t getting any younger, and even his mom had been contemplating scaling back her hours. He shouldn’t be surprised that his dad is considering retirement, even if Mike Bowen had always seemed invincible to him. It’s yet another reminder that time is a gift, and he shouldn’t take this gift for granted. 

“What would you even do if you retired?” Ricky asks. He tries to picture his dad in a Hawaiian shirt on a beach somewhere, drinking margaritas, and the image is enough to make him laugh. His dad was never the type of person who could be idle for very long. 

“Whatever I want,” Mike chuckles. “Play some golf…” 

“You hate golf.” 

“Pick up a hobby or two. Anything I want. I’ll finally have the time. I’ve been thinking about selling the house, too.” 

“Really?” This is a surprise to Ricky. If his dad had wanted to sell the place, he imagined he would’ve done it long ago. 

“Yeah. It’s a nice place, but it’s a bit too much for a single old man like me. No visitors to come stay…” 

“Ouch,” Ricky winces good-naturedly. “I suppose that’s fair.” 

“I’m just teasing,” Mike says gently.

A thought strikes Ricky as he realizes that somewhere, deep in his luggage, there is a ring that holds the key to his future. “Actually, Dad, what if I told you that could change?” 

“What could change?” 

“The no visitors thing…” 

“You thinking of coming by more often?” 

“Absolutely,” Ricky says enthusiastically. “But not just me…” He catches his father’s questioning smile. “Before our plans got changed, I was actually planning something big on this vacation.” He takes a deep breath. “I was - I am - planning to propose to Nini.” It’s the first time he’s spoken the intention out loud to anyone. Sure, her moms had given him permission to propose, but he hadn’t had a timeline for the proposal then. 

Mike takes a moment to digest the information. “Wow,” he says quietly. “Wow.” 

“You think it’s a bad idea?” Ricky asks. 

“No,” his father replies quickly. “No, quite the opposite. I think it’s a great idea.” 

“You don’t think we’re moving too quickly?” 

“There’s no such thing,” Mike says. “That’s the thing about relationships. They move at their own speed. I dated your mom for three years before we agreed to get married, and it didn’t work out. But there’s something about you and Nini. I can tell by the way you talk about her, and the way she looks at you on those video calls. She’s something special, Rick. And I know you. I know you wouldn’t ask her to marry you unless you were positive that she’s the one.” 

“She is,” Ricky says breathlessly. “She is the one, Dad. I knew it pretty much from the moment we started dating.” 

“Then how can you possibly move too quickly?” Mike says. “I think this is the perfect time to ask her to marry you.” 

Ricky takes a moment to consider his father’s words. It would be easy to dismiss his dad after his own marriage crumbled. But who better to judge whether this decision is prudent? And besides, it feels right. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“So,” Mike asks slyly, “does this mean I’ll be a grandfather someday soon?” 

The younger Bowen can’t help but laugh. “Maybe not too soon, but you might wanna hang onto the house anyway. When you do become a granddad, you can bet you’ll be getting plenty of visits from your grandkids.” 

* * *

Just after midnight, Ricky joins EJ upstairs in the office-turned-guest room. His dad has opened the pull-out and spread an old, floral-print bedspread he vaguely recognizes from his childhood over top of it. EJ stands by the desk, scrolling through his phone with one hand while drying his shower-damp hair with the other. 

“Your dad’s pretty cool,” he says as Ricky rummages in his suitcase for a pair of sweatpants. 

Ricky gingerly moves the ring box aside. “Yeah,” he says distractedly. “He’s pretty great.” 

For a moment, EJ wants to say more. Ricky’s parents’ divorce is common knowledge, but the music teacher was always reluctant to talk about it. He knows his mom lives in Chicago, and from everything he’s gleaned, the divorce was likely a messy one. He wants to reassure Ricky that he understands complicated parental relationships. His parents might not be divorced, but the distance between them and their only child feels like a chasm most days. He opens his mouth to offer the thought, then thinks better of it. He used to hate when people brought his parents up to him. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Ricky feels the same. Instead, he settles for a simple, “You good?” as he drapes his towel over the back of the office chair. 

“Fine,” Ricky says, a little too quickly. 

EJ arches a brow in doubt. 

Ricky gulps, considering the ring that lies in his now zipped-up suitcase. If anyone knows how to approach this, it’s EJ. Of the guys, he knows Nini best, and Ricky is sure that he’d have some good ideas for how to throw together a proposal in a last-minute location. But he hesitates. He and EJ are finally on good terms, the drama surrounding his breakup with Nini well and truly in the past. He and Nini have finally found a good, healthy footing as friends. Would EJ be jealous if he revealed his plans? Would it derail their friendship? And is it really fair to rub it in EJ’s face on a holiday? He reconsiders, then decides to forge ahead. He has to find out eventually, right? 

“Can I...tell you a secret?” Ricky begins. 

“Yeah, of course,” EJ says, spinning the chair around and plopping himself down in it. 

The music teacher pauses, trying to find the right words, then settles for unzipping his bag, reaching inside, and pulling out the ring box. 

EJ’s eyes widen and a slow smile spreads across his face. “At least buy me dinner, first,” he jokes.

“It’s not for you!” Ricky grouses. “It’s for Nini.” 

“Relax,” EJ holds up a hand. “I know who it’s for.” He pauses for a moment, searching his friend’s face. Ricky looks apprehensive. “Wow,” he says finally. “So this is really happening, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Ricky breathes. 

“You sure?” 

“I love her,” the younger man shrugs simply. 

EJ’s features relax into an easy smile. “Then there’s nothing else to say, Ricky. You have to do it.” 

For a moment, the music teacher is shocked. He isn’t sure why he wanted EJ’s blessing. It’s not like he needs his friends’ permission to ask the woman of his dreams to marry him, and it’s not like EJ has much of a right to weigh in. But something about the easy encouragement he gives absolves him. “You’re not...upset?” he asks haltingly. 

EJ’s brow furrows for a moment, and he starts to ask why Ricky would think such a thing, but then realizes it’s a stupid question. His expression lightens. “No, Ricky. I’m not. I know a lot’s gone down between you and me, and me and Nini. But whatever happened in the past, you’re both my friends. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching with my therapist…” 

“You too?” Ricky interjects. 

EJ snorts. “Yeah, thank Ashlyn. It’s actually been really helpful. And I realized the whole jealousy thing? I’m over it. It’s not a good look for me. I need to stop looking for happiness outside of myself if I ever want to be at peace. Part of that means celebrating the joy of the people I care about. Like you and Nini.” 

Ricky lets out a short laugh, and a broad smile overtakes his face. “Thanks, EJ. That...That means a lot.” 

“So how’re you gonna ask her?” the older man asks, leaning forward in his seat. 

“About that…” Ricky replies. “Well, I was gonna ask her while we were in Aspen, but that’s out the window. I’m not really sure what to do. My dad’s house isn’t exactly the most romantic place to ask Nini to marry me.” 

EJ rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe not, but it could be.” He notes Ricky’s perplexed expression. “Look, I don’t need to tell you that Christmas is Nini’s favorite holiday, right?” He waits for the music teacher to nod. “Maybe we can work with that…” 

* * *

It’s past one o’clock by the time Ricky and EJ finish developing the plan for his proposal. As he lies in the dark, Ricky finds himself more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Everything may not have gone according to plan, but this will work. He’s sure of it. And he has EJ, of all people, to thank. Maybe it’s the miracle of the season, or the fact that it’s so cold out, but he finds himself warming even more to his least-likely friend. It doesn’t bother him when EJ turns out to be a sleep cuddler, and it doesn’t even bother him when he ends up being the little spoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story reaches its midpoint, I'm also looking to wind down this series and each character's arc. We've come along way from the Ricky, Nini, EJ, Gina, Kourtney, Red, Ashlyn, Carlos, and Seb of the first story. In other news, we're back to teaching fully virtual till January. Once I settle back into the rhythm of online teaching, it should hopefully leave me a little more free time to write. In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you think of this update.


	4. Life Without Revision Will Silence Our Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! I've been listening to songs off the Holiday Special album, so this felt timely, and while all of this was planned before the Holiday Special soundtrack was even announced, some of it definitely goes hand-in-hand. Anyway, Dara Renee's cover of "Believe" gave me chills, and I loved Joshua Bassett's original song and Olivia Rodrigo's cover of "River." Other songs off the album left a little to be desired, but the new content has been great.
> 
> Anyway, super long update this time. I hope you enjoy!

**_East High Teachers of the Year (and Friends)_ **

**_7:04 AM_ **

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ We are checked OUT of that sinkhole and finally on our way thank GOD _

**_The Notorious A.M.C.:_ ** _ It really wasn’t that bad. But yeah, we’re on our way. ETA 11 AM. _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ Speak for yourself! I think my mattress had mold _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ Kourt, we shared the same mattress. There was literally nothing there.  _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ I’m just saying. If I start having breathing problems they’ll be hearing from my lawyer _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ you guys are literally right next to each other. why are you texting? _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ Because I don’t think the boys fully appreciate my pain _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ I don’t even think the boys are awake _

**_Red Dead Red-emption:_ ** _ i’m awake! :)  _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ ash says that’s cuz you don’t sleep _

**_Red Dead Red-emption:_ ** _ ash is correct _

* * *

Ricky slowly opens his eyes, blinking away the sleepiness as he squints in the dimly-lit room. EJ stirs beside him, blue-green eyes snapping open. The PE teacher regards him with a perplexed expression until realization sets in and he remembers where they are. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Ricky says with a note of humor, pivoting from under the covers and slowly standing up. 

“Morning,” EJ says, reaching for his phone. He cycles through Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook before setting the device back down, then checks his texts. “Girls are on their way. They texted an hour ago,” he says.

“I saw,” Ricky replies, trying not to let his voice betray just how eager he is for them to arrive. He parts two slats in the blinds and peeks outside. The world is a singular sheet of white, so bright and reflective it hurts his eyes. The snow has accumulated so high that he can’t tell where the sidewalk ends and the street begins. EJ’s Jeep is completely covered, forming a boxy snow sculpture beside his dad’s work truck. There are no signs that anyone has been outside yet: no telltale tire tracks or footprints. “Looks like it was pretty rough last night,” he notes. 

EJ murmurs an affirmative and slowly rises to a sitting position. He winces as he swings his right leg over the side of the pull-out mattress. He can feel how bad the storm was in his knee. 

Ricky rummages in his bag and pulls out a blue sweater and a pair of jeans. A charred smell begins to waft from downstairs, and he can only guess that his dad was attempting to prepare breakfast. He grabs his towel and slings it over his shoulder on the way to the door. When he has one hand around the cool metal of the doorknob, he turns to EJ. “You need the bathroom?” 

“Nah,” the older man shakes his head. “You go first.” 

Ricky nods, twists the doorknob, and steps into the unlit hallway. He nearly runs straight into Carlos as the choreographer steps out of the guest room sleepily, dark hair sticking up and glasses slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. “Is the house on fire?” he asks. 

The music teacher stifles a laugh. “Nope. That would be the smell of a famous Mike Bowen breakfast.” 

“He knows the bacon is already dead, right? He doesn’t have to cremate it.” 

“He’s just making sure it’s extra well done,” Ricky answers, turning for the bathroom. He flicks on the light and takes in the sight of himself: dark bags under his eyes, his curls mussed and hanging at odd angles. 

Nini always says this is her favorite version of him: bleary-eyed, messy hair, completely unfiltered. It always makes her laugh, and he misses the sound of her giggle now. He reminds himself that it will only be a few more hours and tries to ignore the fact that the unplowed snow outside might lengthen that timeline. He turns on the shower and tries to forget his concerns by getting lost in the tune of “The First Noel.” 

By the time he emerges from the shower, hair slightly damp and steam trailing from the bathroom door, Ricky feels refreshed. He makes his way downstairs and finds his dad poring over the menu of a local cafe. 

“Hey, Rick!” he greets with a broad smile. “Merry Christmas Eve!”

“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad,” Ricky chuckles. “I’m amazed you didn’t set the fire alarms off,” he adds, noting the hazy smoke that still hangs in the air. 

“I unplugged that thing years ago,” Mike says, and Ricky isn’t sure if he’s joking or not. “Anyway, since my first attempt at breakfast was a rousing success, I figured I’d cut my losses and pick up food from the cafe. Only problem is…” his eyes drift toward the window. 

“All the snow,” the younger Bowen concludes. “Don’t worry, Dad. We’re on it.” He’s sure the guys won’t mind helping to clear the driveway. Especially if it’s the only way they’ll get edible food. 

“The snowblower’s in the garage. I’ll come out and help you.” 

“What? No,” Ricky protests. “Dad, how often do you have a bunch of people ready and willing to do the work for you?” 

“Are you sure?” Mike asks. 

“Positive. Besides, it’s Denver. I’m sure you’ll have plenty more chances to dig yourself out after we leave.” For a moment, he regrets saying it that way, and he searches his dad’s face for any sign of hurt. Mike only smiles back at him, and he resolves that when he leaves, it won’t be long before he comes back. 

* * *

“You gotta pull the cord harder,” EJ says. “Put your back into it.” 

“I am putting my back into it!” Ricky says, stepping back from the snowblower. “Why don’t you try, Coach of the Year?” 

“Three years running,” EJ says haughtily, nudging the younger man aside gently and grabbing hold of the starter cord on the machine. He gives it a firm tug, grunting with exertion as his momentum carries him backwards. The machine rumbles, then chokes to a halt. The PE teacher frowns and seizes the cord again, giving it a harder tug. Again, it shakes and rumbles, the scent of gasoline tinging the air, and again the motor seizes after a second. “Think your snowblower’s broken,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“Aw,” Ricky pats his arm teasingly. “You just aren’t putting your back into it.” 

“Outta the way,” Big Red announces, elbowing past both of them with a smug grin. “Time to let a real pro take a crack at this.” 

“Pro?” Ricky questions with an amused smirk. 

“Duh,” Big Red says, rubbing his hands together in preparation. “How do you think I made money from ages twelve to sixteen? Stand back and watch a master at work.” The redhead grips the pull cord and gives two small tugs, followed by a hard yank. Immediately, the snowblower rumbles to life, idling in the garage. He turns to the others with a satisfied look.

* * *

“Hey!” Carlos cries as a mound of snow strikes him square in the back. 

“It was an accident!” Seb answers, but the smirk on his face says it was anything but. 

“Do I need to remind you that my winter coat was  _ not _ designed to handle Rocky Mountain winters?” Carlos replies, stooping to form a snowball of his own.

Seb takes off running, giggling as he ducks for cover behind EJ’s Jeep. 

“You can’t hide forever, Sebby,” Carlos calls in a sing-song voice, sauntering slowly toward his boyfriend’s hiding place. He rounds the Jeep’s front fender and is greeted by a faceful of snow and the sound of Seb laughing as he retreats. He lobs the snowball in the direction of the blond’s voice. 

EJ lets out a grunt of surprise as the snowball strikes him in the chest. Carlos clears the snow from his glasses and realizes he missed his target. “Okay, I swear I didn’t mean to hit you,” he says.

EJ shakes his head, grinning as he bends down and grabs a massive mound of snow between his hands. He begins forming it into a snowball, and Carlos makes a break for it, only for the PE teacher to close the distance in a matter of seconds. He drops the enormous snowball on top of the choreographer’s head. A moment later, Seb hurls a second snowball at him.

“No fair!” Carlos protests. “It’s two against one!” 

“Two against two,” Ricky corrects, chucking a snowball that catches EJ square in the cheek and planting a second into Carlos’s gloved hand. 

“It’s like that, huh, Bowen?” the coach says. 

Ricky pats Carlos on the back. “You guys were ganging up on him! I had to help. Besides, I always root for the underdogs.” 

They soon devolve into an all-out snowball war, the shoveling momentarily forgotten as Seb and Carlos exchange volleys of snowballs and Ricky uses his shovel like a catapult to hurl snow at both EJ and Seb. They’re so caught-up in the flurry of activity and the peels of laughter that neither team notices the low rumble of the snowblower until it’s too late. 

“Head’s up!” Big Red laughs, turning the spout wildly in all directions and coating all four of his friends in snow.

* * *

**_East High Teachers of the Year (And Friends)_ **

**_10:38 AM_ **

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ Almost there! _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ We kept breakfast warm for you :)  _

**_c-rod:_ ** _ WE on the other hand, are the opposite of warm _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ What happened?! _

**_When You’re Red-dy Come and Get It (Na Na Na Na):_ ** _ the guys started a snowball fight. i ended it. _

**_kneeknee:_ ** _ You ended it how? _

**_When You’re Red-dy Come and Get It (Na Na Na Na):_ ** _ 2 words. snow. blower. _

* * *

By the time the girls finally pull into the freshly shoveled driveway, the boys are semi-dry, clutching steaming cups of coffee as the feeling slowly returns to their cold-numbed fingers. Ricky’s jeans are hanging in the laundry room to dry and he’s swapped his blue sweater for a red-and-gray one. He swings the front door wide the moment he hears Ashlyn’s car pull up, and he practically bolts through the storm door. 

Nini barely has time to emerge from the car, wrapping her coat tighter around herself, before Ricky envelops her in a massive hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a half-circle amid the snow. She giggles, gripping his shoulders to balance herself. The warmth he radiates is enough to make her think she’ll never need a winter coat again. 

Ricky finally sets her down and pulls back to inspect her. Her hair sticks out beneath her knitted cap and the cold is quickly turning her cheeks red, but she’s real and she’s here and she’s fine, and that’s all he could ever want. He leans in until their noses touch. Hers is notably colder than his. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmurs, his breath forming a cloud between them. 

“It was just one night,” she tries to deflect, but she can’t lie. It was just as difficult for her to be apart from him, especially in the middle of a blizzard right before a holiday, when loved ones are supposed to be near. 

“One sleepless night,” Ricky tells her. 

Nini rises on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “We’re here now. I’m here now. That’s what matters.” 

The boys come out to greet them and help them with their bags, and soon the entire group is reunited in the foyer of Mike’s house, shedding their coats and moving their bags aside. 

“Ladies!” Mike announces, emerging from the kitchen with a broad smile. “Welcome! It’s so good to have the whole group here.” 

“Thanks for letting us crash your holiday,” Ashlyn smiles. 

“Are you kidding?” Mike responds. “I haven’t had so many guests for Christmas in years. It’s nice. Makes the place feel full.” He turns to his son. “Ricky, you wanna introduce me to the rest of the gang?” 

Ricky nods dutifully. “Dad, this is Ashlyn Caswell, history teacher and master of a million other skills. Gina Porter, the only person I’ve ever met who could make math interesting. Kourtney, a literal fashion  _ icon _ . And this…” 

“Nini,” Nini says, holding out her hand. “So good to finally meet you in person.” 

Mike smiles knowingly at his son, then at Nini, and opens his arms for a hug. “C’mere, Nini, we’re practically family! Thank you for coming.” He pulls back and casts a glance at the assembled group, their smiles warm and broad. “Thank you all for coming. This… This is truly a special Christmas.”

The sleeping arrangements have to be modified, but they manage to find room for everyone. Seb and Carlos stay in the guest room, and Ashlyn volunteers to join Big Red on the pullout in the basement. Nini and Ricky take the pullout in Mike’s office. 

“You’re kicking me out?” EJ says, feigning hurt. 

“Nothing personal,” Ricky shrugs with a smile, drawing Nini closer to him. 

Gina and Kourtney agree to take opposite ends of the massive sectional in the living room, and Mike scrounges up an air mattress for EJ to set up in the living room as well. 

* * *

“Ricky?” Nini says, running a brush through her hair and using the TV - the sole reflective surface in Mike’s office - as a mirror.

“Yeah?” He sweeps up behind her, gingerly untangling stray hairs from her necklace. 

“Why doesn’t your dad decorate for Christmas?” 

“Huh?” He frowns, trying to recall a single decoration anywhere in the house since they arrived. He can’t. There is no wreath on the door, no poinsettias decorating the foyer. There’s no Christmas village in the bay window and no stockings on the fireplace. There isn’t even a tree. “Good question,” he murmurs. “I guess Dad never got around to it.” 

“Maybe we can fix that,” Nini says, turning to him. She sets the brush down and smiles winningly. “You know? Make it feel a little more Christmas-y.” 

Ricky laughs softly as he folds her toward him, his hand perching at her waist. It feels so good to actually see her in front of him - to be able to reach out and touch her. There’s something about the way she looks right now, clad in a blue-and-white striped sweater, gently untangling her hair in a house he hasn’t spent any appreciable amount of time in since he was a teenager, that confirms everything for him. He swallows. He’s going to ask Nini Salazar-Roberts to be his wife. He’s going to do it here, in this place that is full of bittersweet memories. It feels right. She’s seen every part of where he came from now, and she’s still here. 

“Ricky,” Nini chuckles softly, encircling her slender arms around his waist. 

“Yeah?” 

“Christmas decorations?” 

“Right,” he says, dropping his hand and shaking his head. “Right. Sorry, I got distracted.”

* * *

“Hey, Dad?”

Mike looks up from the living room fireplace, poker still poised and ready in his hand. He prods at the logs, repositioning them over the lit newspapers and waiting for them to catch. “What’s up?” he asks as Ricky and Nini enter.

“We, uh, couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t decorate for Christmas.” 

“Oh,” his father laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I didn’t.”

“What happened?” Ricky asks, stooping down beside his dad. He hands him another loose sheet of newspaper. “You used to love decorating the house for Christmas.”

“I did,” Mike confirms. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think of doing it every year. But it’s just so much effort, you know? Guess I just figured there wasn’t much point to it. It’s only me, after all. Who am I decorating for?” 

“What’d you do with all the decorations?” Ricky questions. 

The last sheet of newspaper does the trick. The logs begin smoldering, and soon they catch flame. Mike shuts the fireplace screen. “I still have ‘em,” he says. “They’re up in the attic. Why?” 

“Because this year, we’re gonna decorate for you,” his son answers. The orange glow of the fire reflects in his eyes as he smiles. 

“Really?” Mike quirks a brow. 

“Well, Nini’s the master Christmas decorator here. I’m just the muscle.” 

“It’s true,” Nini puts in playfully, wrapping her arms around Ricky. “Just don’t put him in charge of stringing the lights.” 

* * *

The attic looks like it hasn’t seen a living soul in years, and Ricky knows that it’s more than likely true. The ceilings are so low that even Nini has to stoop to be able to move around, and cobwebs hang everywhere, leaving a tickling sensation every time they brush against him. There are boxes that haven’t been opened since his dad moved in, still labeled in his mother’s loopy script. “Bingo! Christmas tree,” he declares, pointing to a zippered red-and-green bag in a corner.

Nini inspects it dubiously. “It looks like a body bag,” she laughs.

“Yeah,” Ricky chuckles. “You should’ve seen me and Dad trying to load this thing into the moving truck. It probably looked suspicious as hell. But it’s a tree. I swear. And this must be the rest of the decorations,” he rifles through a deep plastic container full of ornaments and other assorted holiday decor. 

With EJ and Gina’s help, they manage to wrangle the tree and the box of decorations downstairs to the foyer, and the rest of the group gathers to assist. Nini pries the lid of the container and reaches inside, pulling out the first package of multi-colored ornaments and a tangled mass of lights while EJ and Ricky set about putting the fake tree together. 

“Okay, this is the base, and I’m pretty sure that piece goes next,” Ricky says. 

“No way,” EJ protests. “It has a point. That’s obviously the top.” 

“Okay, then where’s the middle?” 

When they finally assemble the different sections of the tree, Nini steps back to inspect their handiwork. “Alright, guys. Now we just need to decorate it.” 

“I got this,” Seb says. “We have eleven trees on my family’s farm. I’m an expert at decorating.” 

“Lights first,” Gina says, holding up the string of lights she meticulously unwound. She smiles at the bulbs in her hand, regarding them with a sense of fondness. She passes a thumb over one of the plastic lights. “White bulbs,” she murmurs. “Just like we always used to use on my tree growing up.”

“You always used white lights?” Ricky asks. 

“Yeah,” Gina nods. “Mom always made sure our tree looked department store ready. You know, red ornaments, white lights. Real classy. And also the easiest to replace if anything broke in transit. Which it did. A lot. Ornaments don’t exactly hold up that well in the back of a U-Haul.” 

“Garlands!” Kourtney exclaims, pulling out yards of fake pine needles adorned with red bows.

A nostalgic smile traces Ricky’s lips. “Oh yeah,” he says. “My mom bought those one year, but she couldn’t figure out how to make it look good wrapped around the bannister.” 

“Leave it to me,” Kourtney replies. “My parents go all out for the holidays. I’m an expert at this.” 

EJ reaches into the box and pulls out a spool of red ribbon. A glint forms in his eye as he remembers the trees of his childhood: towering ten-footers with blinking lights, ringed with presents wrapped in shiny gold paper standing in the middle of Ashlyn’s family room. Each one was trimmed with red and gold ribbons and topped with a bow, meticulously draped by Aunt Debbie and, later on, by Ashlyn herself. On the Christmases when his parents were around, his mom always commented on how beautiful the tree was.

“Thinking what I’m thinking?” he quirks a brow at Ashlyn, holding up the spool.

“Way ahead of you,” she replies, showing him a gold spool. 

“I’m lost,” Nini says, looking between the cousins. 

“Ash’s mom is a wizard when it comes to tree decorating,” EJ says. “And she inherited the talent.”

“Oh stop,” the redhead says humbly. “It’s just some ribbons.” She takes the first spool and approaches the tree.

“How about you, Red?” Nini asks, sorting through the boxes of ornaments. “What did your tree look like?” 

“Oh, we didn’t have a tree,” Big Red says. “We had a Hannukah Bush.” 

“I’ve never seen a Hannukah Bush,” Nini smiles.

“It’s basically just a Christmas tree,” Red admits. “Just smaller. And with blue and white ornaments.” 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Ricky interrupts, passing him a package of blue and white ornaments. He turns to Nini. “What else do we need?” 

“Popcorn!” Nini shouts. 

“Popcorn?” 

“We always strung popcorn for our trees,” she says, smiling at the memory of herself at ten years old, sitting in the living room with her moms and Lola, painstakingly threading popcorn to make garlands. She would always get frustrated and give up halfway when her hands would become too greasy to hold the thread. She would sit on the floor for hours, eating the popcorn out of the bowl while her grandmother carefully strung kernels with a steady hand and told her of Christmases in Manila. 

So they microwave a bowl of popcorn, and Ricky sits with her on the stairs while she tries to string them. He reaches into the bowl every so often, playfully popping a kernel in his mouth. “Ricky!” she cries. “Stop eating the decorations!” 

She succeeds in stringing three feet worth of popcorn before she gives up and lets Ricky finish the rest. She offers the string of popcorn to Seb sheepishly. 

“We can string it towards the top,” the blond smiles, taking the thread from her. 

“You know what this tree needs?” Carlos announces. “Glitter.” He holds up a plastic canister and shakes it a few times.

“Glitter?” Kourtney questions. 

“Yes, glitter. Everything’s better with glitter.”

“But it gets everywhere,” the designer counters. 

“That’s the point!” Carlos responds. He dumps glitter into his palm and proceeds to sprinkle it across the branches. When he’s finished, even Kourtney has to admit that the way the light glints off the particles makes the tree more complete. It looks like the tree is covered in a light dusting of snow.

Ricky stands back and admires the tree, adorned with ornaments he hasn’t seen since he was twelve. There are the blue and white globes, the red glass bulbs, the obligatory snowflakes and icicles. The “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament inscribed with his birth year is up. He’s grateful that the “Our First Christmas Together” ornament from his parents’ anniversary is still tucked somewhere in the box of decorations. 

“It’s just missing one thing,” he says, pulling the star-shaped tree topper out of its box. It was always his favorite part of decorating the tree as a kid. His dad would lift him up and put him on his shoulders, his mom would gently pass him the star, and he would proudly place it at the very top and declare the tree complete. He doesn’t need his dad’s shoulders now. He rises up on his toes, stretches his arm out, and slides the star into place. “There. Now it’s finished,” he announces, stepping back to join his friends.

“It’s...a lot,” Gina says, an amused smile on her face. 

“I like it,” Ricky declares.

“Me too,” Nini agrees, looking around the room at all of their friends, their faces glowing with the light of the tree. “It’s a little bit of all of us.” 

“A Tradition Tree,” EJ suggests, clapping each of them on the shoulder. 

“A Tradition Tree,” Ricky repeats, testing the phrase out. 

“Our first holiday tradition,” Nini wraps an arm around her boyfriend and gives him a squeeze.

As Ricky prepares to close up the box of unused decorations, his eyes land on a soft, red piece of cloth. He reaches in and gingerly lifts out his stocking. The teddy bear on the front looks a bit worse-for-wear: slightly deflated, head tilted a little too far to the right. But its fur is still soft and the white faux fur around the top of the stocking is still fluffy, and his name - carefully embroidered by his mother - is still intact. If he tries hard enough, he can smell the lingering scent of the chocolates his parents used to leave inside of it on Christmas Eve. 

“What’s that?” Nini asks, moving closer to inspect the piece of decor.

“My old stocking,” he holds it out for her to take. “Had it since I was a toddler.” 

“It’s cute,” she says, turning it over in her hands. She can imagine little Ricky, gap-toothed and bright-eyed, reaching in with one little hand to pull out whatever treasures his parents left inside. “We should hang it up by the fireplace! Maybe Santa will leave you something nice.” 

Ricky laughs. “It’s been years since I’ve had a stocking. Besides, I’m a  _ little  _ old for Santa Claus, Neens.” He moves to put the stocking back in the box, but she snatches it out of his hand. 

“Who cares if it’s been years?” she protests, clutching the stocking closer to her chest protectively. “And who cares if you’re a little old for Santa? You’re not too old for the magic of Christmas.” She moves toward the mantle, and Ricky rises to follow her. 

“Well, what about you?” he asks as Nini hangs the stocking over a hook. “And everyone else? We don’t have stockings for you.” 

“I brought my Christmas socks,” Ashlyn offers, getting up from the couch where she had been sitting with Big Red. “I think I’ve got enough for everyone to have one.”

“How many Christmas socks do you have?” Red asks incredulously.

“A lot,” she answers, already heading for the basement stairs. “And I brought them all.” 

Fifteen minutes later, each of them has a sock, secured over the mantle with tape so as not to put holes in them. Ashlyn chooses the gingerbread sock for herself, while Big Red insists on a sock with Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. 

“I gotta stay on brand,” he shrugs. 

Gina chooses a green sock adorned with candy canes, while EJ opts for dogs on skis and Kourtney selects one with a snowman’s face on it. Seb gleefully claims the penguins with Santa hats, and Carlos picks the polar bears with Santa hats to match. Nini takes the gray sock adorned with snowflakes and pompoms and hangs it next to Ricky’s stocking. She giggles. They won’t fit much, but they’re perfect nonetheless. 

* * *

“This feels familiar,” EJ says, stepping into the kitchen where Ashlyn slowly stirs a pot of milk, vanilla, and cinnamon. A bowl of whisked eggs sits on the counter beside ten mugs, each garnished with a small candy cane. Laughter echoes from the living room, where the others have congregated around the fire. The snow has stopped falling, but the heavy winds swirl clouds of white past the window. 

“What does?” Ashlyn asks. 

“Being in the kitchen together at Christmas,” EJ shrugs. “You making eggnog.” He reaches for one of the candy canes and breaks the tip off of it. 

“You stealing the garnish,” Ashlyn swats his hand away good-naturedly. “But since you’re here, mind doing the honors? I never stir in the egg yolks right.” 

He snorts, lifting the bowl of yolks. “Remember that one year when you tried making it for my dad?” 

“You mean when I heated the pot so much that the egg yolks scrambled?” Ashlyn laughs. “To this day, your dad still refuses to drink anything I serve him.” 

EJ carefully begins to temper the egg yolks, pouring the milk mixture into the bowl. “This is nice,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time we were together for Christmas. I can’t even remember the last time I was with my parents for Christmas.” 

Ashlyn frowns, then lays a gentle hand on her cousin’s shoulder. It’s been years since the last Caswell family Christmas. They were ten years old the last time they gathered at her house for a Christmas Eve sleepover. She still has the picture in her house - EJ in his reindeer onesie and her in her Santa footie pajamas. Ever since then, it was a string of family vacations in tropical places or, more recently, all-expense-paid couples retreats for just their parents. It’s an odd feeling. They couldn’t have known that would be their last Christmas gathering as a family. It had felt like an immovable tradition that would carry on forever. 

“It’s not all bad, though, right?” she says encouragingly. “I mean, just think. While our parents are sunburning to a crisp on a beach in Punta Cana, we’re…” 

“Freezing under three feet of snow in Denver?” EJ suggests with a smirk. 

Ashlyn swats his arm again. “I was going to say we’re together. With our friends. Starting an entirely new tradition.” 

“You’re right,” EJ nods, doling out portions of eggnog into each mug. “And hey, not everything’s changed. We’re still making eggnog, and it’s still a Christmas Eve sleepover.” 

“Remember how we used to stay up all night trying to catch Santa?” Ashlyn asks, smiling fondly at the memory. 

“We tried everything to stay awake,” EJ recalls. “Dumping ice cubes down our backs.” 

“How about that one time we stole cups of coffee from the grownups and got  _ way  _ too caffeinated?” Ashlyn suggests. 

“Or that one Christmas when we kept pinching each other to stay awake,” her cousin laughs. 

“We never did catch Santa, though,” she says. “And every morning when we woke up, there were presents under the tree and the cookies were half-eaten. I think the last Christmas Eve sleepover we ever had was the year I stopped believing in Santa.” 

EJ pauses, a strange look passing over his face. “You never told me that was the year you stopped believing.” 

The redhead shrugs. “I didn’t want to ruin the magic for you.” 

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t have,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Because that was the year I stopped believing, too.” 

Ashlyn frowns. “But… You didn’t say anything…”

“I didn’t want to ruin the magic for you.”

* * *

It is a well-documented fact that Mike Bowen can’t cook, and after the morning’s burnt-breakfast fiasco, they all agree it’s for the best if they order out. So Mike braves the deep snow to Boston Market, which is somehow still open, and returns with enough chicken, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and sweet potato casserole to feed an army.

“Well, it’s not quite home-cooked, but then again, dinner out is about the closest thing to a Christmas tradition in the Bowen household. Dig in,” Mike declares.

“It’s perfect, Mike,” Nini laughs, spooning a heaping portion of mashed potatoes onto her plate and passing it across the table to Gina. “Christmas Eve feasts were always a thing in my family. This feels just like it.” 

“I’m sure the food was better,” Mike deflects. 

“Not better,” Nini replies. “Just different. We always did Christmas Eve with my Filipino side of the family, so we ate lechon and pancit.” She smiles at the memory of Lola’s dining room table, even longer than usual with the leaf inserted. She can almost smell the roast pig and the thin rice noodles. “We had so much food, we usually weren’t even hungry when we went to my other mom’s side of the family on Christmas Day.” 

“Wait, we used to do almost the exact same thing!” Carlos declares. “My relatives from Cuernavaca would visit every Christmas and we’d go to Midnight Mass.” 

“I used to fall asleep at Midnight Mass all the time,” Nini says. 

“Me too!” Carlos laughs. “Then we’d come home to a big feast. The ponche was the best part, though. My uncle used to pour a little rum into mine, even though I wasn’t technically old enough to drink yet.” 

“In my family, the feast would start on Christmas and didn’t end till New Years,” Seb says, using his fork to pick apart a piece of chicken. “My relatives would spend the whole week on the farm with us. We’re a little more spread out these days now that my brothers are in school or working, so this,” he looks around the table meaningfully, “feels a lot like the Christmases I’m used to.” 

“This is nothing like the Christmases I’m used to,” Big Red says. 

“Aren’t you Jewish?” EJ frowns. 

“Exactly,” the redhead grins, tapping the side of his head knowingly. “My family used to go to the movies on Christmas. They’re never crowded since everyone’s at home celebrating. And then we’d go out for Chinese food after. But I gotta admit, this is pretty great, too. I’m kinda embarrassed to say this is my first time actually celebrating Christmas.” 

“That’s not embarrassing at all,” Kourtney interjects. “I’ll tell you what’s embarrassing. Watching your dad dress up like Santa Claus and stand on the porch, waving to all the kids.” 

“No way,” Ricky says incredulously.

“Yes, way,” Kourtney replies. “My dad loves Christmas. Like, if Christmas was a person, he would’ve married them instead of my mom. He puts so many lights up on the house, he knocked out power to the neighborhood one year. Kids from all over Salt Lake City used to come drive by our house to see all the lights and wave to Santa. It was even worse when my mom started dressing up as Mrs. Claus to get in on the act.” 

“I remember that!” Nini giggles. “I think I still have pictures of the one year they put you and your brothers in elf costumes.” 

“Shhhh,” Kourtney hushes her, stifling a laugh of her own. “We don’t speak of that. You know, it’s funny. I used to be so embarrassed about the whole thing. I’m talking so embarrassed, I would go out the back door so nobody would see me leaving the house. But now that I’m living on my own, I kinda miss it.” 

“I know what you mean,” Ashlyn agrees. “This was the first year I had to get a tree for myself. EJ’s family and mine used to go to the tree farm together on the first of December.” 

“Yeah,” EJ says. “It didn’t feel like December had hit till we came home with a tree strapped to the roof of the car.” He remembers those years spent running from pine tree to pine tree with Ashlyn, knocking on the trunks and pulling at the branches, as if they were somehow Christmas tree experts. He remembers helping his dad tie their chosen tree to the roof of the Tahoe. 

“Of course,” the gym teacher adds after a moment’s thought, “that was all before my parents decided they liked vacationing over the holidays. After that, our Christmas trees were always palm trees.” 

“That sounds exciting, though,” Big Red offers brightly.

“Don’t get me wrong,” EJ says. “It was fun going to new places. But it didn’t really feel like Christmas, you know? We all sorta did our own thing once we checked into the hotel.” 

“I know what you mean,” Gina smiles encouragingly at him. “Disaster doesn’t take a break for holidays, so neither did my mom. I don’t think I ever spent Christmas in the same place twice, and it usually felt wrong to celebrate anyway. Mom was busy helping people who’d just lost everything. Unwrapping presents in the middle of all that sort of felt insensitive.” 

There is no bitterness in her tone, nor in her heart. It was never something to be upset over. It was just the reality of the situation. People needed help, and her mother was there. “Still, she always found a way to make Christmas special anyway,” Gina notes with a wistful tone. 

Nini reaches across the table and lays a gentle hand on hers. “How?” she asks softly. 

Gina shrugs. “Sometimes she got me something I really wanted, or cooked something I really liked. But the best was when she was able to take off for the day so we could spend it as a family.” She turns to Ricky. “What about you, Ricky? What were your holiday traditions like?” 

Ricky looks across the table at his dad, eyes wide for a moment as he reaches back into his memory for anything. But Christmas was always just  _ normal _ for him. Getting up at sunrise, dragging his parents out of bed to open presents, visiting his grandparents, posing in front of the tree for pictures. It was all just a typical, average family Christmas. Until it wasn’t. And then he was splitting time, spending alternating Christmases with his mom and dad, and finally with neither. “We didn’t really have any traditions,” he says haltingly, then looks around the table at all of his friends, warm and glowing under the dining room light, perfectly content. He smiles, fully and radiantly. “But I hope this is the start of a new one. To traditions, new and old,” he raises his mug of eggnog. 

“To traditions,” they repeat, clinking cups and taking sips. Nini makes a face as she downs a gulp of eggnog, then turns to her boyfriend beside her and kisses his cheek. 

* * *

“Okay, so I know it’s not Christmas yet,” Carlos says, walking into the living room with a wrapped package in his hands, “but I can’t wait any longer. Can we  _ please  _ do Secret Santa now?” 

“Sure,” Ricky shrugs, glancing at his friends. No one objects, so they disperse to get their Secret Santa gifts and return to the living room with all manner of packages, wrapped in brightly colored paper and topped with bows. 

“Who wants to go first?” Nini asks, settling herself down on the living room floor beside Ricky. 

“I will,” her boyfriend volunteers. He takes the long, rectangular package wrapped in blue paper and holds it out to his best friend. “This is for you, Red.” 

The redhead smiles and takes the gift, ripping into the paper to reveal a box. He pulls back the flaps and pulls out a skate deck, its polished wood gleaming under the living room lights. “Dude, this is awesome!” Big Red exclaims.

“Flip it over,” Ricky says.

Red flips it over to reveal the top, painted light blue. The most eye-catching part, though, is the design painted over it. It depicts a halfpipe and the backs of two figures sitting on top of it. The shorter of the two has fiery red hair, and he is wearing a green-and-blue baja hoodie. Beside him is a taller figure with brown, curly hair in a blue hooded sweatshirt. It’s a near perfect recreation of his favorite picture of the two of them, snapped by a mutual friend at the skatepark the day he opened his shop. He immediately recognizes the signature of an LA-based skateboard artist. “Dude,” Red says softly.

Ricky smiles shyly. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” his best friend wraps his arms around him in a side hug.

“I figured I’m not around the skateshop as much anymore, so I wanted to give you a token of all the good times we had there. And to remind you that I’m never too far away or too busy for my best friend.”

“I’m gonna put it in the display case by the register,” he says. 

“You don’t wanna use it?” 

“And possibly mess up the art?” Big Red looks at him aghast. “Besides, I want everyone who comes into the shop to know that I’ve got the most awesome best friend in the world.” He holds up the skate deck again to admire it, then lays it gently in its box and reaches behind him. He holds out a sparkly silver bag to Kourtney. “Sorry it’s not wrapped,” he says sheepishly. “I suck at wrapping presents, so I figured a bag was a safer bet.” 

“You have good taste in gift bags,” Kourtney says, taking the present from him. She opens it up and removes several sheets of crumpled tissue paper before discovering a set of square boxes fastened together with ribbon. A pleasant, perfume-like smell fills the air as she lifts them out of the bag. “What are they?” she asks, gently undoing the ribbon. 

“Open them and see,” the redhead smiles proudly. 

Kourtney lifts the gold lid off the first box and finds a light purple candle inside, shaped like a fashion mannequin. The card inside the box says “Lavender and Vanilla.” She lifts the candle out of the box and holds it up to admire it. “It’s beautiful,” she smiles. 

“There’s a few,” Big Red gestures toward the other boxes. “They’re all different colors and smells.” 

Kourtney opens the next box, revealing an orange, citrus-scented candle. The third is a deep green one that smells like pine, and the red one has a hint of cinnamon. “I love these, Big Red,” she says, replacing the red candle in its box and hugging it close to her chest.

The redhead shrugs. “The last time we were over at your place, I noticed how good the place smells.” 

“I do love my scents,” the fashion designer chuckles. 

“So I figured these would be perfect for you. And they’re sustainably made by a local candlemaker. I know how much you believe in supporting small businesses.” 

“Red,” Kourtney says. “Thank you! You put so much thought into this and it’s just... It means a lot to me.” 

“Merry Christmas,” he shrugs humbly. 

“Okay, I guess I’m up,” Kourtney says, passing a large, wrapped box to Gina. 

“Kourt, this is huge,” Gina says. “I’m a little scared to open it.” 

“Don’t worry,” Kourtney laughs. “It won’t bite.” 

Gina carefully splits the wrapping paper along its seam and pulls the box out. Something rattles inside, and when she opens it and reaches in, she’s met with the feeling of cold metal on her fingertips. Slowly, she pulls out a large metal rack with hooks along the bottom. She looks at the shelf quizzically, then turns it over and gasps.

The top of the rack is a frame, and inside it is the group photo from Ashlyn’s housewarming, depicting all of them sitting around the couch, smiling broadly. 

“You told us that you chose Salt Lake City to be your home,” Kourtney says. “Well, every home has a key, and keys need a place. And it’s also to remind you that no matter where you go, you’ll always have a home here with us.” 

Gina throws her arms around Kourtney and blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Kourtney,” she says shakily. “I...I don’t know what to say.” She can already imagine the perfect place for it: right beside the front door. She can already picture hanging the key to her apartment there, right beneath the faces of her friends, who are arguably the best home she has.

“Okay, well I don’t think I can top that,” she says finally. “But here, Ash. This is for you,” she passes over a package. 

“Thank you,” the redhead smiles, opening the box and pulls out a white t-shirt with a playbill silk screened onto the front: a gold background with a singular black star and the figure of a man on top. The word ‘HAMILTON’ is emblazoned across the top. “Gina!” she says. “I love Hamilton!”

“I know,” Gina laughs. “We talked about it awhile ago, remember? But there’s more. Unfold it.” 

Ashlyn obeys and a ticket falls from within the folds of the shirt. She picks it up and reads it, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Is this real?” 

“A hundred percent,” Gina answers. “The Hamilton National Tour is coming to Eccles Theater, and you and I have orchestra seats for opening night.” 

When Ashlyn finally finishes squealing with delight and thanking Gina repeatedly through peels of giddy laughter, she finally turns to Nini and holds out a basket obscured with wrapping paper. “I’m your Secret Santa, Neens,” she smiles. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, Ash,” Nini accepts the present, slowly removing the wrapping paper and pulling back the layer of cellophane to reveal an assortment of items: several tins containing a variety of teas, a light pink mug in the shape of an owl, a bottle of eucalyptus-scented bubble bath, and an assortment of face masks. 

“It’s a self-care kit,” Ashlyn elaborates. 

Nini chuckles. Ash always preaches self-care, and she has always needed a reminder. There is one final item in the basket: a small card, written in immaculate script that she recognizes as Ashlyn’s immediately. “I’ve seen how hard you work to make sure everyone is taken care of. Your students, your cast, your family, and your friends. Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.” 

“Ash,” Nini begins. 

“Don’t,” the redhead says gently. “Just promise me that you’ll use it.” 

Nini nods, grinning. “I promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ashlyn threatens jokingly. 

“Don’t worry,” Ricky puts an arm around Nini’s waist. “I’ll make sure she takes some time for herself.” 

Nini rolls her eyes good-naturedly and gently lays the bubble bath back inside the basket. The truth is, Ashlyn is right. Lola used to say, “One can’t pour from an empty cup.” She was full of little platitudes like that, sayings that Nini always attributed to the fact that her grandmother was a psychologist. But more and more, she’s found that Lola was right. She can’t pour if her cup is empty, and she’s grateful to know that she has so many people in her life that are willing to refill her cup when she needs it.

She turns to Seb and hands him a present. “Alright, Seb. You’re up.” 

The blond raises his eyebrows as he accepts the present and opens it with Carlos leaning over his shoulder to watch. He pulls a black canvas duffle bag out and turns it over. One one side is his name in a dainty cursive font, embroidered in bright pink: Seb Matthew-Smith, Choreographer. On the other side, embroidered in the same color, is a pair of ballet shoes. “Nini, this is so thoughtful,” Seb smiles.

The brunette shrugs. “I figured now that you’ve got your own studio setup, you’ll probably be traveling for competitions.”

“I’ll think of you every time,” the blond replies, giving her a hug. “Maybe you’ll bring us some good luck.” 

“I’ll be cheering you on no matter where you are,” Nini replies, hugging him back. 

“Okay, so it’s a miracle I managed to keep this a secret, especially considering I live with a world-class snoop,” Seb turns to Carlos, eyeing him fondly over the rim of his glasses.

“I’m not a snoop,” Carlos replies airily. “I’m a busybody.” 

“You’re my busybody,” Seb returns, holding out a present. “And this is for you.” 

“For me?” Carlos looks genuinely surprised. “How? Where did you hide this?” 

The blond smiles at his boyfriend knowingly. “I can’t tell you. I hid your birthday present there, too.” 

“Seb!” 

“Just open it.” 

Carlos complies, unwrapping the gift to reveal a winter coat: black with a gray pattern on the interior lining. The tag advertises it as waterproof and cold-weather rated to negative forty degrees. “Sebby,” Carlos says softly. 

“A winter coat?” EJ questions. 

“He got rid of his last one when he moved to New York,” Seb explains.

“Manhattan’s not as cold as Salt Lake,” Carlos explains. “I could get by with a peacoat. I didn’t think I’d be moving back west.” 

“Well, you did,” Seb pats his boyfriend’s knee. “And I hope that you’ll stay awhile now that you have a coat that can stand up to the weather, because I kinda like having you around.” 

Carlos kisses his cheek. “I kinda like being around,” he says. “I love it. Thank you.” When he finishes admiring the new, warmer coat, he hands a massive box to EJ. “Your turn,” he says. 

EJ stares at the package, perplexed. “How did you even fit this in the car?” he murmurs in amazement, opening it up. He removes a mountain of tissue paper before pulling out a single card with a QR code and a web address. “What’s this?” he turns to Carlos. 

“Your present,” the dancer says enigmatically. “I had a little bit of help coming up with it, but I really wanted it to be meaningful. Honestly, if I hadn’t gotten you for my Secret Santa, I would’ve given it to you anyway.”

“So I just...scan it?” 

“Scan it and see,” Carlos confirms.

EJ takes out his phone, opens the camera, and focuses in on the QR code. A moment later, the web browser opens and begins to load a YouTube video. The furrow in his brow deepens as the video loads. The title reads “Highlight Reel: Coach Eric James Caswell.” Then the video starts. He’s staring at a black screen at first, but it quickly dissolves into his faculty photo from last year, accompanied by a sampling of headlines from local newspapers.

He feels himself starting to turn red as his friends cluster around him, looking over his shoulder to watch and practically breathing down his neck. “Uh, Carlos…?” 

“Keep watching,” the dancer says. 

“Turn the volume up!” Big Red pleads.

EJ complies. The soft backing track quickly gives way to a slightly shaky cell phone camera video of him standing on the makeshift stage at the revue. He hears himself singing and watches his stiff attempts at choreography. He can hear the pitchiness in his own voice, but it doesn’t seem to matter. For the first time, he sees the footage from the perspective of the audience, and he hears just how loudly they cheer and applaud when he’s done.

The footage dissolves to another piece of cell phone camera footage, this time shot from the sidelines of the gym at the championship game. The scoreboard says they’re down by five. He recognizes it immediately as Nini’s camerawork. She’s shown him this video before. The camera zooms in on him, pacing up and down the court, following his players. When a timeout is called, he brings them in. The background noise is too loud for him to be audible, and the footage is too grainy for his lips to be readable. He doesn’t remember exactly what he said, just that he was giving his team a pep talk. But the camera clearly captures him clapping the team captain on the back, and it clearly shows them leaving the huddle with a renewed sense of purpose. 

A series of video clips follow, mostly pulled from various Snapchat and Instagram stories from his friends. In one, also shot by Nini, he balances a piece of spaghetti under his nose like a mustache while she tries to hold the camera steady while laughing. There are a few from his rehearsals with Ashlyn while preparing for the Revue-lution. One clip is from the day Big Red and Ricky tried to teach him to skate. He wipes out on flat ground, but immediately gets back up, smiles, and gives the camera a thumbs up. There is footage of him and the basketball team backstage during the musical, helping to reposition props, and a few backstage stills of him and Gina hanging out among the cast and crew. There are behind-the-scenes moments of Kourtney’s fashion shoot, where she drapes him in various layers of clothing and laughs at the jokingly pretentious model-like poses he makes. There are clips of him rehearsing choreography with Seb, and a few snippets filmed at the skateshop when they were practicing for the revue, with Ashlyn at the piano and Ricky and Nini dancing while he sings. There are plenty of selfies with Carlos, and plenty more pictures from everyone else.

The video ends with another film from the revue. This one is from a different angle, further back than the first had been, and he knows that Carlos was the one who filmed it. He recognizes his own speech, and he mouths the words in time.  _ I’m still working on becoming a better person now… My understanding of the word team has expanded. It’s not just the basketball team anymore. My team is the entire school: every student, every teacher, every club, every organization… Our job is to help one another shine. Because after all, the stars don’t outshine each other. They work together to light up the whole night sky. _

The video ends there, but a message slowly begins to scroll across the black background.

_ EJ,  _

_ Everyone knows you as the legendary coach of the East High Leopards, and as one of the greatest players on the Gonzaga Bulldogs. And rightfully so, because both are amazing achievements. You’re hardworking, driven, and talented. But that’s not why we love you. There’s so much more to you outside of the silver screen. You’re enthusiastic. You’re a leader. You have high standards, especially for yourself. You’re loyal, and when you set your mind to fighting for a cause, you see it through. Above all, you care about other people.  _

_ I asked our friends to compile their favorite pictures and videos of you to make this video. I wanted to show you our favorite parts of you. The goofy side of you. The side of you that is down for anything. The side of you that encourages and uplifts others, and the side of you that will fight to the ends of the earth for what you believe in.  _

_ This is your highlight reel, EJ. It’s full of all the moments that make you worthy of love, regardless of the accomplishments and the awards and the headlines. _

The video ends, and for a moment, EJ stares at his own reflection in the black screen. He reminds himself to breathe, and he can feel the tears start to press at the backs of his eyes. He doesn’t try to stop them. He doesn’t even swipe them away with the back of his hand. He lets them fall and looks up to lock eyes with Carlos, who smiles softly. 

“The video is private,” he tells him. “But you can share it with anyone you want, and you can watch it whenever. And I really, really hope you watch it often. You deserve this, EJ. You’re a great coach, but you’re an even greater friend.” 

“You really took the time to put this together for me?” he says, his voice hoarse. 

“It was my idea,” Carlos replies, “but it wouldn’t have been possible without everyone here contributing. So in a way, it’s a gift from all of us.” 

“You guys,” he begins, then trails off. His mind is empty of any words. All he can feel is the warmth spreading from his chest throughout his body, and the tears spilling freely from his eyes, and the way his face is starting to hurt from smiling so much. He reaches out, opening his arms to Carlos for a hug. 

The smaller man accepts, hugging him back tightly. “Merry Christmas, EJ.” 

The coach turns to the rest of his friends. “Get in here, all of you,” he says with a watery laugh, and he revels in the way they practically dogpile on top of him in a group hug. 

When he recomposes himself, he turns to the group and says, “Well, I guess I’m last to go, so you’ve probably figured out who I got. Ricky, this is for you,” he hands his present to the music teacher.

Ricky opens it. “A guitar strap,” he says, smiling.

“Turn it over,” EJ says. His eyes are red and puffy but his smile is radiant and genuine. 

Ricky’s heart skips a beat when he flips the strap over and finds a message printed across it in bright yellow letters. “Anyone can be a musician.” He looks up at EJ with an astonished expression.

“I kept hearing you say that while we were rehearsing for the revue,” EJ elaborates. “Every time someone felt like they couldn’t do it, you’d tell them that anyone could be a musician. You even said it to me a couple of times. And it stuck with me. It encouraged me to keep going. You believe in everyone who crosses paths with you, Ricky. That’s probably the thing I admire most about you.” 

“Thank you, EJ,” Ricky says, folding the coach into a hug once more. “I can’t wait to put it on my guitar. It’ll be a nice reminder for the kids. And for me, too.” 

“This has gotta be a record for the most successful Secret Santa in the history of ever,” Seb says after they’ve sat in silence for a few moments, basking in how full the room feels. 

“By far,” Gina agrees. 

“But now the bar’s been raised,” Kourtney points out. “I don’t know how any of us can top this year.” 

Ricky shrugs. “Well, we’ve got a whole year to make new memories. I’m sure we’ll come up with something by next Christmas.” 

“Oh, I’m already working on it,” Carlos promises with a glint in his eye.

* * *

The fight over which Christmas movie to watch is heated. Ashlyn insists that  _ Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer  _ is the best, but Big Red quickly counters with  _ Home Alone _ while Kourtney loudly proclaims that  _ The Grinch _ cannot be topped. 

“What about  _ Die Hard _ ?” EJ suggests, only to be shouted down by Nini and Gina at-once about how it isn’t a Christmas movie. 

“Guys, I got it,” Ricky says, scrolling aimlessly through the Christmas movie options on Netflix. “ _ Polar Express _ .” 

“Yes!” Seb agrees. 

“I’m okay with that,” Nini says after contemplating it a moment. “The music is good.” 

“Not to mention the hot chocolate dance number,” Carlos adds. “I can do the whole thing. Minus the actual hot chocolate, of course.” 

“Oh  _ hell  _ no,” Kourtney protests. “Have you  _ seen  _ the way those kids are animated. It’s creepy as hell.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re actually afraid of  _ The Polar Express _ ,” Nini says incredulously. 

“Have you seen their eyes, Neens? It’s like staring into the face of death.” 

“Oh c’mon, Kourt,” Gina says. “I think this is the only movie we can agree on.” 

“Fine,” the designer sighs. “But I swear if I have nightmares tonight, I’m waking all of you up to keep me company.” 

* * *

Within the first twenty minutes, Kourtney already has Nini’s hand covering her eyes. She occasionally peeks out to get her bearings before letting out a squeal of terror and immediately hiding behind her best friend’s hand once more.

They laugh wildly when Ashlyn reveals that EJ can do a spot-on impression of the Know-It-All, and he proves it by reciting the character’s lines. Gina takes a solid minute to regain her breath afterwards, and occasionally falls into fits of laughter again when she remembers. 

As promised, Carlos performs the hot chocolate dance number, leaping on the sofa and coffee table in lieu of train seats and beverage carts. 

“When Christmas Comes to Town” starts, and Ricky looks over at Nini as he begins to sing. She returns his smile, leaning against him and savoring the warmth he gives off as she harmonizes with him. 

“ _ The best time of the year, when everyone comes home. _

_ With all this Christmas cheer, it’s hard to be alone. _

_ Putting up the Christmas tree with friends that come around. _

_ It’s so much fun when Christmas comes to town.” _

When the first few notes of “Believe” start to play, everyone grows quiet. Even Kourtney hazards a look at the screen and begins to hum. The hum gets taken up by Gina and Ashlyn, then Seb, then Carlos and EJ, and even Big Red joins in until the entire group is belting in the living room with Kourtney’s voice rising above the rest.

Ricky’s heart swells as he glances at Nini, her eyes shut and an easy smile gracing her face as she sings along, swaying slightly. He would kiss her if it wouldn’t interrupt her voice. 

“ _ Believe in what your heart is saying. _

_ Hear the melody that’s playing. _

_ There’s no time to waste. _

_ There’s so much to celebrate. _

_ Believe in what you feel inside _

_ And give your dreams the wings to fly. _

_ You have everything you need, _

_ If you just believe.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story winds down (only one more chapter to go!), fear not. I'm already gearing up with another AU to follow this one. I've also got a oneshot in the works, and a few other ideas I'm toying with. Let me know what you think of this chapter, and Happy Thanksgiving to all those celebrating. Stay safe, be responsible, and I hope you're still able to find things to celebrate and be thankful for. I know I'm thankful for all of you!


	5. Like Fresh Plates and Clean Slates (Our Future is White)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, my friends, here it is. The conclusion to this story and this universe. It is not my last time writing for this fandom. Far from it. I have an entirely new AU that I'm just about ready to take the wraps off. But still, this is the series that started it all. It took me almost a year to write, and I'm satisfied with how it's wrapped up. I hope you'll enjoy it, too. So without further ado, the moment you've all been waiting for... The Rini proposal. I'm looking forward to what you have to say about this chapter. And now that this universe is concluded, I'm eager to hear your thoughts on the whole thing. What did you like? What didn't you like? What do you still want to know? What would you have liked to see more of? This particular AU may be over, and the next one may be starting, but I would really love to still keep the conversation with you all going.

“Hit me again,” Big Red says to Ashlyn, opening his mouth wide as she takes another marshmallow out of the bag and tosses it into the air toward him. He cranes his neck and catches it effortlessly. “Three for three,” he grins proudly. 

“You’re gonna choke,” Nini says worriedly. 

“Nah, Red’s a pro,” Ricky interjects. “You should see how many pepperoni slices he can catch at once.” 

“Boys are disgusting,” Kourtney shakes her head with an amused smirk. 

Seb reaches across Ashlyn and dips his hand into the bag. “Watch this,” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully and casts a glance at EJ, who has long since fallen asleep on the couch, his mouth open and his head tilted back slightly. 

“No way,” Nini says, shaking her head as she follows his gaze. 

“Yes way,” the blond replies. 

“Five bucks you miss,” Ricky challenges. 

“You’re on,” the choreographer accepts, winding up and tossing the marshmallow towards the sleeping PE teacher. It falls just short, landing on his chest instead. For a moment, everyone holds their breath. He doesn’t stir.

“Amateur,” Carlos teases. “Let me try.” 

Ashlyn gladly hands him a marshmallow and he pitches it at EJ, but it glances off his cheek and falls to the floor. 

“Watch and learn, boys.” Gina reaches into the bag and pulls out a marshmallow while Ricky snickers and begins recording on his phone. She leans back like a pitcher rearing up for a curveball, then tosses the marshmallow. It arcs through the air before landing perfectly in the sleeping coach’s mouth. EJ’s eyes snap open and he sits up, startled and sputtering. The marshmallow falls from his lips and lands in his lap. He glances down at it and the other two marshmallows that missed their mark, then back up at his giggling friends. 

“Very funny,” he grouses, but he picks up the marshmallows and eats them anyway. 

* * *

They barely make it to midnight, but by force of will and sugar, they wait for the clock to officially hit twelve o’clock. Seb starts vibrating on his third cup of hot chocolate - more whipped cream than anything else - and Carlos hides the mug from him when he’s not looking. 

“Merry Christmas!” Nini shouts giddily the second the clock turns over. She reaches out and wraps her arms around Ricky, pulling him close. He lets out a surprised laugh at her strength, then returns the hug, rocking her side-to-side on the couch. 

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispers.

They exchange Christmas wishes, taking turns hugging every person in sight, holding them close, swaying with them in the dim light cast by the Christmas tree. Even Mike gets in on the act, hugging each of his guests in turn like they’re his own children. He gets to Ricky last. 

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” the younger Bowen says. 

“Merry Christmas, Ricky.” 

They hug each other, longer and tighter than Ricky’s hugged either of his parents in years. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a present,” Ricky adds sheepishly. 

“But you did,” Mike insists, smiling at his son and his friends gathered in his living room. “You brought me the greatest gift I’ve ever received.” 

Shortly after, they head to their respective rooms. Ricky casts a quick, knowing glance to EJ in the foyer and trusts that he’ll clue the others in on the plan they hatched together. The PE teacher nods, and Ricky lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he follows Nini up the stairs. 

“This really is the best Christmas ever,” Nini says once they’ve turned the lights off and climbed into bed beside each other. She rolls toward Ricky, nuzzling into his chest. 

_ Just you wait _ , Ricky thinks, smiling to himself in the dark and squeezing her tighter. 

“M’love you,” she murmurs blearily. Even in the dark, he can make out the slow, easy smile that spreads across her face, even as her eyes remain shut. 

“I love you, too,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He wills himself not to fall asleep, though it’s difficult beneath the pile of sheets, warm and cozy with Nini pressed against him. He waits until her breathing becomes deep and steady, her chest rising and falling to a rhythm, then gently pries himself away from her. She stirs, and he panics and freezes until her breathing slows again. He reaches for his phone, plugged in and charging beside the pullout, and angles the screen away from her so that the light doesn’t wake her up.

* * *

**_East High Teachers of the Year (and Friends)_ **

**_12:48 AM_ **

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ operation stocking stuffer is a go! _

**_armie hammer:_ ** _ operation stocking stuffer? _

**_Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer:_ ** _ ok so can we all agree that ricky never gets to choose the codenames again? _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ guys! the plan! nini’s asleep but she could wake up any minute _

**_gin and tonic:_ ** _ i’m in position _

**_The Notorious A.M.C.:_ ** _ Ditto _

**_c-rod:_ ** _ seb and carlos reporting for duty! _

**_Order in the Kourt:_ ** _ I’ll wake Nini up as soon as you give the word _

**_Pickle Rick:_ ** _ thank god she keeps her phone on do not disturb at night… _

* * *

True to his word, EJ has filled everyone in on the plan. By the time Ricky makes it downstairs and dons his Santa hat, the others have gathered in the foyer, lining the path to the living room. They’ve rekindled the fire, and it casts a soft, orange glow that plays off the blinking Christmas tree lights and the multicolored ornaments. He draws a deep breath as he pulls the ring box from his pocket and slips it with trembling fingers into the Christmas sock that Nini claimed as her stocking. It forms a strange lump, and the sock droops a little under the weight, but it holds, and in the dim light, it almost isn’t noticeable. 

He turns from the mantle and grins nervously at his friends. “Alright, guys,” he says, trying to force the tremble from his voice. “This is it.” 

“You’ve got this, dude,” Big Red nudges him, his eyes alight. 

“And we’ve got your back,” EJ promises, nodding resolutely. 

“Thanks,” he says, locking eyes meaningfully with EJ before turning to address the others. “All of you. The fact that you’re here and willing to help… It means the world.” 

“Are you kidding?” Ashlyn cries gleefully. “We’ve been waiting for this day  _ forever _ .” 

“It’s true. We had a bet going,” Seb nods. 

“Which reminds me,” Gina chimes in. “You all owe me ten bucks each.” She looks over to Ricky and her features soften into a smile. “You deserve this, Ricky. You and Nini both do. I’ve never seen two people so perfect for each other.” 

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Ricky asks shyly, his voice barely above a peep. The anxiety has played on his mind for weeks now, kept him up long after Nini fell asleep. It feels crushingly real now. His heart beats wildly, slamming against his ribcage, and he can’t tell if he’s warm because he’s nervous or because he’s standing so close to the flame. 

“Of course she will,” Carlos says. His tone is devoid of all snark and playful teasing, and the confidence in his eyes strengthens Ricky. 

“Take it from me,” Kourtney advises. “I’m her best friend. Nini tells me  _ everything _ . And from the moment the two of you started dating, all she’s told me is how much she adores you and how good you make her feel. She’ll say yes, Ricky. And thank goodness, too. You’re good for her. And she’s good for you.”

“You mean it?” Ricky perks up, his eyes widening. 

Kourtney leans over and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I mean it, Ricky. Now, I’m gonna go upstairs and wake her up. Take a deep breath, because in a few minutes, you’re gonna be an engaged man.” 

He watches as Kourtney heads up the stairs, then draws in a deep breath and tries to still his shaking hands. Somehow, Kourtney’s words were exactly what he needed to hear. No one knows Nini better than she does, and even though she approved of the engagement ring before he bought it, hearing her say it now makes it feel all the more real.  _ This is happening.  _

His father lingers on the periphery of the room, standing between Ashlyn and Gina. He offers Ricky a grin when they lock eyes. 

“Any last minute advice?” he asks breathlessly.

Mike chuckles ruefully. “You sure you want advice from me?” 

The younger Bowen returns his father’s rueful smile. “You’ve walked this road before,” he reasons, exhaling forcefully once more and wringing his hands as he tries to distract from the noise of Kourtney’s footsteps upstairs.

Mike places a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “You just gotta do it, Ricky. I know you. I know you like to guess and second-guess yourself. But your heart has led you to Nini, and it’s led you to decide now’s the time to ask her to marry you. Your heart’s never let you down before. Trust it now.” 

He nods slowly. He wants to push back against his father’s words. He wants to tell him that his heart has let him down plenty of times before, that he’s guessed and second-guessed because there have been very few decisions he’s made that he hasn’t regretted. But the more he considers it, the more he thinks that he might’ve been wrong. His heart has led him down what he believed to be the wrong path many times before. It’s led to a lot of disappointment, uncertainty, frustration, and tears. And yet, would he have ended up here without all of those moments? If he’d had the childhood he wanted, would he have ever felt the need to go back to Utah? Would he have met Big Red, and moved in with him in Salt Lake City? Would he have taken a job at East High? Would he have met Nini? He nods slowly and lifts his eyes to meet his dad’s. No doubt. No second-guessing. He is going to trust his heart.

* * *

Nini is lost in a warm dream, huddled beneath a fleece blanket with Ricky as snow piles up outside. A lit Christmas tree blinks on and off and a fire crackles pleasantly in the hearth. She gets the sense they’re in Aspen, though no one else seems to be around. She snuggles closer to him, feels his curls tickle her cheek. From this angle, his eyes are half-lidded, his long eyelashes obscuring his brown irises and his face tinged orange from the fire. He smiles softly, then glances at her and opens his mouth to speak.

“Nini!” It’s Kourtney’s voice that comes from his lips, hissing and urgent. The world begins to shake. “Nini!” 

She sits up with a start, nearly headbutting her best friend in the nose. 

“Jesus!” Kourtney stumbles backward.

“Kourt?” Nini rubs her eyes blearily and squints into the darkness. Ricky’s side of the bed is empty, but still warm and the sheets are rumpled. “What’s going on? Where’s Ricky?” 

“Come downstairs,” Kourtney urges. 

Nini blinks. Kourtney is wearing pajamas, her hair wrapped in a pale green silk bonnet. “What’s wrong?” Her heartbeat quickens rapidly. Nothing is outwardly wrong. Kourtney seems calm. There are no fire alarms going off and no sirens or panicked cries. But her best friend wouldn’t just barge into her room and wake her up at one in the morning, and Ricky wouldn’t get out of bed willingly at this time of night. 

Kourtney reaches out a hand. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course but…” 

She tuts, interrupting her. “Do you trust me?” she repeats. 

Nini sighs, throws back the covers, and rises to her feet, following her best friend out the door.

* * *

The lights are off, which wouldn’t ordinarily be unusual, except for the fact that all of her friends are gathered in the foyer, flanking either side of her and leading the way toward the living room. 

“Guys,” she says, blinking in confusion and wondering if this is just a  _ really  _ realistic dream. “What are you doing?” 

Kourtney simply nudges her towards the living room, and as she takes another step forward, she can see Ricky standing by the fireplace, illuminated by the glow of the flame. He looks uncharacteristically shy, almost childlike. His hands are clasped behind his back and he shifts from one foot to the other as he meets her eyes. There’s a Santa hat sitting lopsided on his head. His features soften into a smile at the sight of her. 

A hum goes up among her friends. Kourtney starts it, but it is soon picked up by the others, building in volume until she recognizes the melody of “Believe” from when they sang it together mere hours ago. She can’t help but fill in the words.  _ You have everything you need if you just believe.  _

Her smile is puzzled and uncertain, and she glances back at her friends again. “What is this?” she insists. It feels bizarre, almost cult-like, and she has to wonder if this is some elaborate joke they’re playing on her. But then there’s something so earnest, almost yearning, in the way Ricky looks at her and holds out an unsteady hand, inviting her to stand with him. She passes through the living room threshold and takes his hand instinctively, allowing him to pull her closer. 

In the dull firelight, she can see that he looks more than just a little nervous. She’s seen this look before. It was the same expression he had just before the curtains opened on their first musical together. It’s the same expression he had right before he took the stage at the Revue-lution. It’s the expression he wore right before boarding a plane to Chicago to see his mother for the first time in years. And it’s the way he looked right before he told her he loved her for the first time. She searches his eyes for any sign of what he’s going to say. “Ricky…” 

“Sorry,” he begins, letting out a self-conscious laugh. “This is probably really weird and kinda uncomfortable,” he averts his eyes, briefly glances at their friends who do their best not to press into the living room entrance, and shakes his head. He’s already going off-script. 

“A little,” Nini nods slowly. “But it’s you,” she adds. “So I trust you.” 

He laughs again, a little more sincere this time. “I, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, then fiddles with the fluffy cuff of the Santa hat. “I couldn’t wait till morning for this, and to be honest, I thought nighttime might be a little better. I mean, this is supposed to be when the magic happens, right? Santa comes and delivers presents while kids are sleeping. Christmas is already a magical time, and the night of Christmas Eve into Christmas morning is probably the most magical so…” he trails off, drops his eyes to the ground, shuffles his feet again.

He’s going in circles. This little ramble wasn’t in the plan, and now his heart has risen to his throat. For a moment, he considers making up an excuse as to why he dragged her out of bed. It was a dumb plan, born out of the half-tired, half-giddy state that he and EJ were in when they hatched it. It seemed so clever at the time: capture the same childhood magic of Santa Claus visiting in the night and make the proposal magical. But now, with Nini standing before him, somehow still breathtakingly beautiful even with her bedhead and that perplexed look on her face, he reconsiders.  _ No. Trust your heart.  _

“We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?” he finally says. 

Nini nods slowly, raising one eyebrow. 

He clears his throat and decides to launch into the things he planned to say all along. He did this once. He wrote down every reason he could think of that made Nini Salazar-Roberts so special. He copied it down onto a sticky note in the tiniest handwriting he could manage so that all of it would fit, and he kept it in his back pocket, and he recited it for her when he finally admitted to her what he’d known all along: that he was truly, deeply, head-over-heels in love with her. There is no sticky note this time. He doesn’t need it. This is a list he’s rehearsed in his head over and over, adding to it each time as more thoughts came to mind. 

“Obviously we give gifts during Christmas,” he begins. He brings his eyes up to meet hers and holds her gaze. “And even though this vacation hasn’t exactly gone to plan, I feel really lucky to say that I’ve received so many great gifts this year. It’s a gift that my dad was here for us, and that he opened his home to us all. It’s a gift that we got to spend this holiday together. It’s a gift we all made it here safely. Our friends are a gift all on their own. But out of all those gifts that I’ve received, Nini, the greatest gift is you.” He catches the startled flash in her eyes and the way her breath hitches for a moment. She smiles shyly and averts her eyes, and he can already hear all the denials she’ll issue, so he cuts her off. 

“You’re a gift, Nini,” he repeats. “And there’s so many reasons why I love you. Too many to name, even if we had a million Christmases to do it. But here are a few. And I know that I’ve done this before but bear with me.” He drops his voice to a soft murmur, scarcely audible above the crackling flame, as he adds, “Things have changed.” 

Ricky ignores the way his heart flutters in his chest like it’s ready to pitch itself into the fireplace. This somehow feels ten times more frightening than when he delivered his monologue to the entire school, the entire school board, and half the community. The consequences then weren’t nearly as life-altering, or potentially earth-shattering, as they are now. Nini tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying them shyly as she looks up at him. He draws in a deep breath and begins. 

“I love the way your eyes light up whenever someone mentions Christmas,” he says, and he sees the familiar flash of joy in her deep, brown eyes, even in the semi-darkness. “Because you love this holiday, but even more than that, you love spending time with the people you care about. And that’s what this season is about, after all.

I love the way you try so hard to take care of your plant.” 

She laughs, a girlish giggle at what quickly became their first inside joke. The plant was yellowed and forgotten when they met, releasing one long, dying gasp. She’d all but given up on it. It was Ricky who revived it, and Ricky who tended it most days, though she’s watched and learned from him. 

He smiles too, the little dimple forming a crater in his left cheek. “I love that you still try to nurture it. I love how committed you are to trying to take care of things, and how determined you are to learn how to do it.

I love the way you look when we’re in the car going anywhere: school, the grocery store, wherever, and a song comes on the radio that you really love. You sit there with your eyes shut, and you sing along and nod your head. I know you don’t know it, but even in the most ordinary moments, you take my breath away.

I love the way the two of us can sit together and pull a song out of thin air. I never really  _ felt  _ my soul before that. I never knew how powerful it is when two souls harmonize. And I still get the song we wrote stuck in my head at least once a week.” 

Nini’s eyes have turned glassy. She regards him through a film of tears that softens his already-gentle features. She isn’t sure what the feeling is that wells up in her chest, rising from the pit of her stomach and radiating its warmth throughout every inch of her body. Is it joy? Giddiness? Love? She realizes that it’s all three, and still others that she can’t name. They bubble up inside her and threaten to spill over. “I’m glad I’m not the only one,” she says, if only to distract herself from the sheer, overwhelming force of the emotions that strike her. Her chuckle is watery, almost sheepish, and he laughs, too, tracing his guitar-callused fingers over her knuckles. 

“I love the determination you showed when we first met and found out we would be co-directing a show. And every day after that, no matter what curveballgot thrown at us, you took it head-on. You inspired me to keep going, even when I was ready to give up.” 

“As I recall,” Nini says, “it was you that inspired me to keep going after I’d given up.” 

He squeezes her hand, his eyes flashing urgently. “But it was you that got me there, Neens. It was you that really convinced me and made me believe we could pull it off. You showed me what it means to not give up on something.” 

“And you showed me how to find the strength to keep going, even when there was no end in sight,” she says. 

He averts his gaze momentarily, then brings his eyes to meet hers. “Actually,” he chuckles softly, “that brings me to my next point. I love the way you use your voice to empower others,” he continues. “You empower me every day. You make me feel like I’m standing on top of the world. You make me feel like I’m more than just my mistakes. You helped me find the courage to get up in front of the whole school and say how I felt. I never would’ve done that before I knew you. 

But it doesn’t end with just me. You empower your students with the things you say and the way you make them feel. I know it’s hard for you to break out of your shell, Nini. But the second someone or something you care about is threatened, you forget all about that fear. You come out swinging. It’s selfless and it’s fierce, and you mothered a whole movement because of it.” 

“I had help…” 

“But you didn’t need it,” Ricky shakes his head. The words are tumbling from his mouth now, coming so quickly that they threaten to outpace his brain. “Even if no one else was there to help you, I know you would’ve found a way. You’re a great teacher. The best. You’re the greatest teacher I’ve ever had. And this is all just scratching the surface, because I haven’t even told you the things I love most about you, yet.

You’re forgiving, Neens. I’ve always been the type of person to hold grudges. I would keep track of everything, and I would bottle it all up and hold it tight because I thought somehow the anger would make me stronger. I thought it would fuel me. But you don’t hold grudges, Nini. You let the anger go. And when someone tries to earn your forgiveness, you give it to them with no strings attached. You taught me how to do that. If you hadn’t set that example for me, I don’t know if I would’ve found the strength to connect with some of the people here tonight. I would have missed out on some of the most important people I know. I never would have found it in me to go see my mom. I never would’ve had the courage to call my dad. I never would have been able to really move on. I used to think my anger made me strong. You showed me that forgiveness makes me stronger.

Maybe that’s the thing I love most about you, Neens. It’s the way you’ve forced me to confront everything I’ve spent so long running from because you  _ knew  _ I would come out happier in the end. It was hard at first. But you held my hand through it. I love that you see the best in me. You’re not my anchor, Nini, you’re my buoy. You don’t keep me rooted to one spot. You help me float. You help me rise to the best version of myself. 

And more than anything, I love how you make me feel loved. And you make me feel  _ worthy  _ of love. Even when I doubted myself. Even when I got caught up in my own self-loathing. You were there. You loved me, and you made me feel like I was worth it. You love me the way I need to be loved, Nini. You believe in the goodness in me. And you made me believe that I have goodness within me, too. There aren’t any words that can totally, fully express just what that means to me. You changed the way I look at myself, and I hope that maybe by telling you these things, you’ll see how I look at you, too. You’re a gift, Nini Salazar-Roberts. You’re the perfect gift. And when you asked me what I wanted for Christmas this year, there was only one thing that came to mind.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes and tries to smile, but her face hurts from smiling so much already. “What is it?” she peeps. 

He tilts his head in the direction of the socks that line the mantle. “Check your stocking.”

“Ricky…” 

“Just do it,” he pleads. 

She draws in a deep, shaky breath and tries to still her trembling hands. She reaches for the sock, half expecting to knock it into the flame with how unsteady her fingers are. There’s something inside. She can feel it: small and square, and when she reaches in, her fingers brush the felt-like fabric. Her heart feels like it could stop beating at any minute. Slowly, painstakingly, she pulls the box out and opens it. A beautiful silver ring sits inside, enveloped in soft fabric. The firelight glints off the diamond perched in its center, sending glimmering fractals of light across the room. 

She gasps, and when she looks up again, Ricky Bowen is on one knee. He looks up at her, doe-eyed and sincere, nervous and hopeful. His curls, unruly as ever, peek out beneath the crooked Santa hat, and she wishes she could hold him and kiss him forever. She wishes she could freeze time, freeze this perfect moment, freeze the joy and love and elation that fills her heart, freeze this image of Ricky and her, and keep it forever. 

“Nina Salazar-Roberts,” Ricky says, his voice small and shy, “all I want for Christmas this year is for you to marry me.”

She can’t help the delighted squeal of disbelief that escapes her, giddy and hopelessly in love. 

“Will you?” he asks.

She can’t even see him anymore for all the tears that have blurred her vision. She can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a coherent sentence. All she can do is nod and try to blink away the tears of joy that keep spilling forth. “Yes,” she finally says, the word bursting forth from her like an exultation, like something that’s been kept trapped inside her for centuries, just now breaking free with elation. “Yes, Ricky, yes.” 

The delighted exclamation he makes is equal parts relief and disbelief, as if he ever could have doubted she would marry him. He rises quickly and folds her into his arms, squeezing her small frame tight to his chest, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around the living room. His head buzzes, and his heart continues to beat wildly. This is real. This just happened. Nini is going to be his wife. And the prospect of spending the rest of his life with her makes his heart flutter. He wishes he could slow things down and speed them up simultaneously: to savor this moment and wrap them in its warmth and softness, and also to fast-forward - to experience every beautiful moment and adventure he knows awaits them. 

“I know things didn’t totally go to plan,” he whispers in her ear, still holding her fast to him. “And I wasn’t sure how this was gonna work, or if it would even work at all because everything had to be reworked now that we weren’t gonna be in Aspen, and…” 

“Ricky,” Nini says, cutting him off mid-babble. “You know in musicals, when people burst into song because they’ve run out of things to say?” 

He searches her face, bewildered. “Yeah?” 

Her smile is soft and slightly mischievous. “Sometimes it’s easier to just kiss.” And with that, she closes the short distance between them, bringing her lips to meet his, taking every single warm thought, every ounce of love she can muster within her and channeling it straight from her mouth to his. 

“Crap, they’re early,” EJ breathes. For a pair of drama club moderators, they’re sure bad about staying on-script. “Now,” he hisses.

Mike hands Gina his fishing pole, and she quickly attaches the mistletoe to it before casting the line out, dangling it over the newly-engaged couples heads. 

When they break apart, Nini smiles against Ricky’s lips. “You know, I always dreamed of a Christmas proposal,” she says. “The only thing missing is…” She glances up, spies the fishing line hanging above their heads. “Mistletoe,” she says, amazed. She turns her head, to see the smiling faces of their friends gathered in the living room entrance. She’d been so lost in the moment that she’d forgotten there was an audience at all. She has just enough time to smile at them, to mouth a sincere ‘thank you,’ before Ricky’s fingers gently tip her chin up and tilt her face back towards him, and he’s kissing her again.

* * *

Nini admires the way the ring catches the sunlight and glitters softly on her finger. She glances at Kourtney, who sits on the ground beside her, flanking her on one side while Ricky sits cross-legged on the other, then around the room at all their friends. She’s struck by how ordinary it feels already. Just another fact of the universe. Her name - at least for now - is Nini Salazar-Roberts. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Her friends are family. It’s Christmas morning. And she’s going to marry Ricky Bowen. And she has to admit, it’s convenient that they’re all together, because she can already ask Kourtney, Gina, and Ashlyn to be her bridesmaids. 

“Have you taken it off at all?” Ricky asks quietly, glancing down at the ring. 

“Why would I?” she questions. 

“So you could see what it says inside.” 

She quirks one eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she slides the ring off her finger. Will this man ever cease to surprise her? She turns the ring over in her hand, then lifts it up to the light so that she can see the engraving on the inside of the band. She lets out a short, awe-struck gasp, then turns to Ricky once more. His smile is bright and playful, and he folds her into a side-hug that ends with her sprawled in his lap. 

_ I Think I Kinda You Know. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I trying to time this update with the release of the holiday special? Maybe. But honestly, I didn't finish proofreading and revising this chapter until late last night anyway. I know that perfect is an unattainable standard, but I needed this to be as close to perfect as it could be. You deserve it for all the support, kind words, insightful conversations, and virtual friendship you've provided me during a year that would have otherwise been very lonely. 
> 
> I never meant to write this much! "The Show Must Go On" was meant to be a single story that wrapped itself up. I didn't intend to fall in love with these characters to the extent that I did. I didn't expect such an outpouring of kindness and support from this fandom. This was meant to be a fun little storytelling escapade, but it quickly morphed into a whole universe that I grew to love more and more with each word. And now here it is, complete and dedicated to every single person who reads this. 
> 
> The year is ending. This is a time to reflect. As I look back, I can't believe that I began this entire universe in January. I can't believe that I finished a series containing over 243,000 words. I've never written this much. I've never been good about finishing what I started. But with all the support I received, I found that I loved writing every moment of this. And now I know that I can do it. And if I can do it in fanfic, I can do it for my own original stories, too. Thank you all for helping me discover my voice. Like fresh plates and clean slates, our future is truly pristine. The New Year is coming, and with it a lot of hope. 
> 
> I'm not done with HSMTMTS yet! On the contrary, this has only energized me with new ideas and universes to explore. And I can already say that the first chapter of my new AU is nearly complete and coming very soon. I hope that you'll join me there, too, because I've been having a lot of fun exploring Ricky, Nini, EJ, Gina, and the gang in an entirely new context. 
> 
> This is long-winded. I'm not really good at conclusions. Thank you for being here. I truly mean it when I say that each of you has made my 2020 special, and I really do love you all. See you on the next story!

**Author's Note:**

> And that concludes chapter 1! I do have a few surprises up my sleeve, including that whole business with the ring, of course. I'm curious to know what you think so far. Next chapter should hopefully not take too long... Thanks for reading so far!


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